


...To Command

by rosethorngirl



Series: Yours to... [2]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Discussions of a More Powerful Lucifer Than We See In The Show, Dom!Chloe, F/F, Lucifer Needs a Hug, M/M, Non Consensual Sub Drop, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Other, Protective Chloe, Rape/Non-con Elements, Undercover Gone Bad, hand wavey science, hurt!Lucifer, sub!Lucifer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2019-11-05 00:59:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 37,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17909009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosethorngirl/pseuds/rosethorngirl
Summary: So he had to admit that he fucked up.He was a big enough Devil to look in the mirror (or attempt to, at least, since currently seeing multiples of everything was a rather large problem) and admit that MAYBE his ego got the better of him.His problem is he keeps underestimating these silly humans, and he no longer has the same strength of power he had before. He’s no wimp by any means, but a decade ago at the earliest he’d have never even found himself in this mess.Granted, a decade ago he was probably sitting in his throne room roasting disloyal demons that were annoying him and plotting his next escape topside on earth. And isn’t that a hilarious thought at such a time.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, so I am so happy you guys are liking this series. This segment will be much more angsty but it has to be done. I am planning approximately a 5 part series. Maybe more / maybe less. This segment takes places sometime in the first four episodes of season 2. Before Uriel, but close to that. There will be no actual rape, just to be clear and upfront. It's attempted, but doesn't happen. Chloe won't let anything happen to her Lucifer. Also, after getting more into the comics this series is based on, I am a bit miffed that they toned down Lucifer's true power by such a degree. I am planning on exploring why he isn't capable of doing what all he can in the comics as this series goes on and possibly restoring that to him. I feel like maybe in the show they wanted him to be more human than celestial, because maybe then we'd relate to him more. But I think there is no reason as for why he can't be both. But that's just me.

Present Time:

So he had to admit that he fucked up.

He was a big enough Devil to look in the mirror (or attempt to, at least, since currently seeing multiples of everything was a rather large problem) and admit that MAYBE his ego got the better of him.

His problem is he keeps underestimating these silly humans, and he no longer has the same strength of power he had before. He’s no wimp by any means, but a decade ago at the earliest he’d have never even found himself in this mess.

Granted, a decade ago he was probably sitting in his throne room roasting disloyal demons that were annoying him and plotting his next escape topside on earth. And isn’t that a hilarious thought at such a time. 

His throne room. 

Because he was King. The King of Hell.

He was the Devil for Dad’s sake, what is he doing even cavorting around in these ridiculous human affairs?

And okay, some of the issue presently is the Detective’s close proximity. If he could just get her to get out of here for a moment his system could absorb the drugs he was given and he’d be in better shape. But it was also that without his ability to call on fire, he could not overpower these miscreants outside their cell they were currently locked in with his hands otherwise occupied and his brain on tilt.

Bloody Hell.

This was some strong shit. 

And he feels it pulling him further and further into a blackness. He has to wake his Dom Detective, because something horrible was going to happen. But what was it? He can’t remember.

“’tective?” he calls in what he hopes is a stronger voice than he thinks he heard come from his lips. “D’ective?”

He feels the Dom stir behind him as they are currently stripped to their underwear and cuffed back to back, waiting for the ringleader to show his ugly face. 

“Lucifer?” she answers groggily. “Ugh,” she grunts and coughs.

He sighs in relief at her answer. At least he doesn’t have to worry about her being too injured. 

“Yes,” he croaks at her. “’m here…I’m here and I don’t know where we are…” he drifts for a moment than tries to snap back to reality. “They gave me s’mthing…I don’t…” He shakes his head trying to clear it. He has to get the Dom to help him for some reason. Why? Why was it again? He can’t remember. The drugs in his system are more powerful than he’s possibly ever felt. He feels…he feels…oh no. 

“Detective!” he panics. Feeling his mind slow further and further. 

He knows what’s happening. He can feel it now. He remembers now. Oh no. Oh no ohnoohno…he lets out a sob he can’t control, fighting against the pull in his hindbrain as hard as he can. He can’t! He won’t do this! No! 

“Detective, please!” He cries out and begins fighting with the cuffs. “Help me! No no no, please no…” he sobs again, feeling himself start to go under.

This seems to trigger a true response from the Dom as she seems to snap to high alert at the sound of his raw fear. 

“Lucifer!” she calls out and jerks to full awake. She looks down at their state of undress and feels the pit of her stomach open up in a way she hasn’t felt in a while. They’re in trouble. The sound of the Sub’s panic is forcing her inner Dom to fight the waves of nausea rolling through her from the concussion. 

Protect. Assert confidence. Soothe his fear. All her instincts were revving up faster than her brain could catch up to her surroundings. The last seventy-two hours slowing slots in her brain as she starts coming back online. 

Lucifer. The undercover op. Subs getting tortured and murdered by their own Doms. The bodies displayed in grotesque ways as if someone were making disgusting art sculptures they wanted the rest of the world to enjoy. The need to get on the inside of suspected place of capture at the nightclub in NoHo. 

Oh fuck. Lucifer. He was the bait. She was supposed to watch his back. She was supposed to protect him. Something’s terribly wrong if… 

“Talk to me,” she breathes out trying to keep her eyes open, feeling the pain in her head intensify, struggling with the cuffs. “Calm down and talk to me, Lucifer.” 

“I can’t!” he actually cries out wetly, violently trying to pull at the cuffs and she feels them begin to creak before he tires and sags against her back taking the wind out of her lungs. “Mistress, please. Don’t let me, no no no.” Shit. He’s dropping. He’s calling her Mistress. She’s never heard him sound so afraid. She has never heard him beg like this, and her heart twists as she tries the cuffs as well.

“Lucifer,” she says firmly, hating her tone right now. The last thing she wants is to be in command like this when it’s against his will. “Lucifer. Breathe, okay? I am going to get us out of this. I promise. But you have to breathe for me. Focus on my voice.”

She hears him grunt as he fights the cuffs again and then forcibly take in a breath. “That’s it. That’s it.” She encourages and hears him do so again. “Good boy. You’re being such a good boy for me, okay?” She feels her eyes fill with tears as she hears the intake of breath Lucifer sounds out, obviously affected by her praise.

“’m I good, Mistress? I’m sorry I can’t…I can’t,” Lucifer can’t think straight. Everything has bled together. He has to get out of here, but the Dom called him a good boy. He wants to be a good boy. He wants to be so good for her. “I’m sorry!” he calls out, feeling the rest of his mind slip under even as he fights as hard as he can. “I’m sorry,” he doesn’t remember why he’s sorry anymore though. 

Chloe releases her own sob at hearing the last of his coherence snap. “It’s okay, don’t be sorry, Little One. You’re such a good boy for me. So good. It’s going to be okay. You’re so brave.”

“’m brave?” he asks and stares into the blackness of the room. “Good boy, Mistress?” he wants to be so good.

“Yes!” she says firmly and with as much affection as she can muster. “Yes, so good. You’re always so good for me, Little One. Just let Mistress…” she nearly gags on the word, this isn’t right. He hasn’t given her permission to be his Mistress, to treat him as her Sub. She wants to vomit at how wrong this is. When they survive this (and they will Goddamnit), he will never forgive this breach of trust. Fuck, she will never forgive herself either. “…figure out how we are going to get out of here okay? Can you keep breathing for me, Little One? In and out. In and out.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he nods seriously. He will do whatever she says; he just wants to be good for her. So good. “’m cold,” he says with a flinch. Is he allowed to talk? She said talk to her, right? He doesn’t remember. Everything’s so fuzzy. 

Why is he tied up like this? Doesn’t his Mistress want him to kneel? Is he being punished? What did he do wrong? He’s so confused, where are they?

“I know, Little One. I know,” she calms him, him not having realized he had said that all out loud. “You aren’t being punished, you’re being so good for me. Mistress just needs to get us away from these bad people okay?” Her mind is whirring a hundred miles an hour even through the pain of the concussion. Surely someone knows something back at base by now. 

“Bad people?” he asks, his voice airy and incandescent. 

She bites back a sob. This is all her fault.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are awesome! I am so happy you like this series. I will probably be away for a week or two due to some family stuff. But I will be back! In the meantime, the plot begins!

84 Hours Ago:

“Oh for Dad’s sake, Mum!” Lucifer nearly screams having been startled to find her staring at him in the corner of his mirror. He tries valiantly to tie his robe tighter around his waist, feeling embarrassed that she were to find him naked except for the robe and his morning routine half finished. “What?! What do you need?”

His Mother, the Goddess of all Creation, is standing in the doorway of his bathroom with her arms crossed having apparently been watching him attempt to coif his hair into some semblance of control. Being his mother, she is not in the least bit concerned with his state of undress and is instead confused as to why he is so flustered and why he feels the need to go to such trouble in the first place.

“Does a mother need to need something to come visit with her son?” she asks in a clipped tone. “Furthermore, I do not understand why you want to cover up your gorgeous curls. I made you so beautiful, my little star. If your father had had His way, your hair would have been straight and blonde!”

Lucifer growls under his breath as he rips open a drawer to get his eyeliner. “First of all, I have not been your little star for several millennia. I’m several billion years old!” He says over his shoulder, as he opens the tube and leans over his counter again to begin drawing it on. “I am not a small fledge anymore. And secondly, my hair is atrocious, Mother. I hate my curls, they make me look like a diffident moppet.”

She tilts her head as she boldly comes into his bathroom further, face contemplative, “You mean to say they make you look like more of your designation.”

“THAT!” he chokes out, nearly smudging his line inelegantly, “is a discussion I would rather eat glass than have with you.” 

His mother pouts. “There’s no need to be rude, son. I understand your frustration with who you are, it was always such a prickly subject with you.” 

Lucifer scowls at his reflection as he attempts to straighten the left eye line. Trust his mother to come and ruin his day before it even begins. “Well gee, I wonder why? The only archangel that was a Sub. Bloody target practice for my older siblings, ordering me around and treating me like their personal foot stool,” he replies sarcastically. He looks in the mirror, pleased with his left eye and begins his right. “And as I have told you countless times in both past and unfortunately present, it is not WHO I am.”

His mother rolls her eyes, and sits down on the side of his tub and says flippantly, “Yes, yes. My little star and his need to be treated like his Dominant siblings. So much so you go and start a rebellion to be seen. You may be several billion years old now, but you have grown no further away from all of your adolescent hang ups.”

His mouth drops open and he turns around, not even caring that his eyeliner smudged from the force of his quick turn. “Excuse you? My adolescent hang ups?”

She gives him a challenging stare, “Yes. You never appreciated what your designation was for. I may hate your father but it was both of our decision to make you as you are.”

Lucifer’s eyes flash red, and his mother does at least have the grace to flinch. “Mother, I don’t know what you want this morning, but you better tell me and get out.”

She holds up a placating hand, “I apologize, son. I just wish you would accept yourself so that maybe you would see how truly powerful your position always made you.”

He scoffs and turns back around to fiddle with the items on his counter in order to give his hands something to do, feeling his stomach churn unpleasantly. “This is once again a discussion I don’t want to have with you, Mum. What do you need?”

He hears her sigh. “I have been enlisted by my silly human job to arrange something called a ‘Farewell Party’ for some degenerate who is retiring.” Lucifer snorts at his Mother’s phrasing. “I do not understand why we must throw him a party for being too weak and frail to continue to perform his duties, but alas it is my job to find a place to host this event. I was hoping to be able to borrow LUX for an evening next week in order to fulfill this ridiculous responsibility.”

“Fine,” he sighs out and looks at his reflection, wincing at the state of his right eye. “Inform Maze so she can order enough booze for it, and also let Jerry know on your way out so he knows to hire the party planner to set it up for you.”

“Well why can’t you inform Mazikeen?” she splutters.

Lucifer smirks over his shoulder. “Afraid of my demon, are you?”

“Hardly,” she scoffs, standing up. “I just feel as though it is terribly beneath me to consort in any capacity with that-that vile creature.”

Lucifer grunts, annoyed. “You needn’t worry, Mum. She feels the same. Now if that was all, I would like to finish dressing so I can meet with the Detective. I have to be at a crime scene within the hour.”

His mother huffs and heads for the bathroom door, “Yes, your human job with that unworthy little…”

Lucifer glares at her fiercely, “Don’t!” he snarls. “Don’t you dare say anything about the Detective or you will regret it.”

“I just don’t understand why you-you,” she physically flounders for the word she is obviously searching for.

“And it isn’t your business to,” he snaps. “Goodbye, Mother.”

She pulls back and storms out the door. Lucifer waits to hear the elevator ding and her heels click on the floor into it before he sighs out an uneven breath. Can he go any number of time before having someone shove his face in what his designation is?

He looks up at his appearance and ignores the mess he made of his right, choosing instead to stare at his neck. He touches it softly, caressing the skin lightly. It’s an unconscious habit he has picked up in recent weeks to go along with his constant stopping into the jewelry store.

How would a collar look on him anyways? 

Probably preposterous. 

He has such a long neck it wouldn’t sit right. Not unless it was big and clunky, and exactly the kind he would despise wearing. They were meant to be displays of power a Dom had over their Sub. How absolutely insane would it be for his tall frame to wear a thin, barely there collar? Other Doms would laugh at him and his Dom. It would denote that the power they had over him would be tenuous at best.

At worst, it would invite challenge! His poor Dom would constantly be fighting to how strong she was for him. To tell the others he was hers…wait, what?

She? Her? He’s speaking in his head as if he’s claimed. He didn’t have a Dom.

He needs to stop these maddening thoughts. 

He locks his jaw and gets a makeup wipe, vigorously wiping off the offending liner before patting the skin dry and starting again. He’ll wear his new blue suit today. That will surely make an impression.

~C&L~

“Detective!” he greets her rushed, handing her a takeaway cup. “I apologize for being a few minutes late, dear. There was an unfortunate visitor that was proving a challenge to be rid of…”

Chloe screws up her nose in distaste, cutting him off, “I don’t need the sexual details, Lucifer, but thanks for the coffee.”

“No, no!” he corrects her quickly, almost too quickly and gesticulating. “Not like that! A familial thing. My mother. She was being an awful pest.”

Chloe observes him for a moment and his strained appearance. He certainly seems to be in a borderline agitated mood. “Your mother’s in town?”

“Yes,” he sighs as follows her around the corner into a warehouse where the bodies lay. “Unfortunately it appears she will be around in a much closer capacity than I had anticipated. I almost wish I had completed my deal with Father in the way of which he sought.”

“Which was?” though she feared the answer.

Lucifer put his hands in his pockets, “Well to take her back below, of course. But truthfully I blame Him for this development. He had to have known that I would find a way to both complete our deal and yet spite Him all the same. It’s in my very nature, after all. Surely, he could have planned better?”

She nods, her fears totally and fully founded. “Right. More Devil stuff. Got it.”

“It is not stuff,” he reflexively replies.

“Whatever, Lucifer. Don’t tell me, it’s fine. Let’s find out about this case, shall we?”

Lucifer grins at her, and bows his head slightly, “Lead the way, darling.”

They walk a few more paces and come upon Ella kneeling beside the remains of a woman who is positioned in a way that she looks as though she is…praying? To the woman standing above her holding a blood soaked paddle that has been (oh good Dad) nailed to her hands, single bullet to the skull.

Lucifer draws back slightly at the grim display. The woman on the ground is obviously a Sub. How appalling?

“Ella, what have we got here?” Chloe greets the lab tech.

“It appears to be a double homicide,” the Switch sighs out, clearly distraught. “But what is really throwing me here is that it also appear that this poor woman was beaten to death with this paddle. And based on the markings on the Sub’s neck and the Dom’s wrist, they were a Pair. I hate to say this but it looks like this Sub’s Dom is their murderer and the Dom was shot through the back of the skull, execution style by a third party.”

Lucifer grimaces, “Well isn’t that just a charming little how do you do? Talk about smacked by love.”

“Lucifer,” Chloe admonishes.

“I’m not trying to be insensitive, Detective,” he insists, earnestly. “I am merely observing the facts.”

“Yes, well,” Ella interjects, “he isn’t wrong. This is so sad. Pairing is supposed to be about finding love and protection. Not…this…” she gestures around her.

“I beg to differ,” Lucifer grunts. “Pairing is almost always about handing over control and letting someone abuse your rights.”

Chloe side eyes him; fully aware that this was a subject she’d best not engage. “Who found the vics?”

“The owner of this warehouse,” Daniel Espinosa chimes in, holding a file and coming to stand near the rest of them. “Apparently, he was planning a renovation to begin next month. Was coming here to wait for the architect in order to begin the discussions for his business’ expansion in here.”

“And instead finds a sight that caused his stomach to expand and expel his breakfast it appears,” Lucifer intones, pointing towards the left where a small pile of vomit sits near the scene.

Chloe shakes her head in sympathy. “We need to search the surrounding perimeter. Lets say four blocks out. Have our tech guys start filtering through traffic cam footage to see if we can find anything to give us any leads,” she tells Dan who nods and heads off. “What’s our TOD?”

“I’d say approximately six hours ago,” Ella replies after turning over the Sub’s wrist, wincing in sympathy at the burn marks from a rope.

Chloe nods, “Okay, so it’s nine now, which means we are looking at three in the morning.”

“We should probably be looking at bars and other such places that are open late,” Lucifer offers. “Seems unlikely they chose these women at random without at least having combed through some seedy places.”

Chloe nods. “Exactly. Let’s head to the precinct and start making a list for all of the known places open past midnight in this area.”

Lucifer dutifully follows her towards the entrance and back in the direction of their cars.

“You know,” Chloe says softly, where the others around them cannot hear, “if you ever want to talk about why you feel Pairing is so-so…”

“Restricting?” Lucifer supplies with a grunt. “Limiting? Soul crushing?”

“Soul crushing?” she says, surprised, stopping mid step. She looks at her Sub partner’s face searchingly, trying to see any hints of exaggeration. Those were not idle words after all. “Surely you don’t think all Doms capable of being like…” she looks back at the crime scene with a grimace, “…well like that?”

“Detective,” Lucifer scoffs, “all beings are capable of that. I would know I’ve met them.” 

Chloe feels her face harden. “So you think me capable of that?”

Shocked, Lucifer shrinks back a little, clearly scolded. “No! I mean-I…”

Mollified slightly, Chloe sighs. “Never mind. I understand you must have been through something truly…horrible to feel as you do,” she offers. 

“Detective, you are the last person I would ever feel would do something that depraved,” Lucifer states seriously. “I know evil. I have seen it in all its gory details,” he shudders. “You are not evil. Nor do I think you intentionally culpable to its iron grip.”

“Intentionally culpable?” she asks with significance. 

“Well,” Lucifer bites his lip, clearly not knowing how to correct his statement but also not wanting to lie.

Chloe sighs deeply. She carefully puts her hand on her Sub partner’s arm and stares at it, not wanting to make him feel anymore defensive than she already accidentally has. “If you want to talk, I’m all ears. If not, I understand. But I do hope at least that you know I would never use my designation as a way to control you or anyone else. I hope I have proven that at least in this last year of us working together.”

“That and more, Detective,” Lucifer agrees and pats her hand before awkwardly beginning to walk again towards the cars.

Chloe’s mouth flattens and she nods, following. One day, she would get this Sub to open up to her. She just knows it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! Kudos and comments are always appreciated! I will try to respond to all comments even while away from writing. So hit me up! Don't be shy!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all of the comments and kudos! I am so happy you guys are still loving this story. Here we will see some things from Chloe's POV. Enjoy!

80 Hours Ago:

Chloe liked to believe she knew her Sub partner pretty well.

Lucifer was one of those special cases that required a lot of attention to detail, and by extension the ability to see through a lot of bullshit. Being a detective, she was a natural at this under normal circumstances. 

She got his overall shtick. 

Understood his less than ideal character of choice.

She even to a point grasped his commitment to repressing any and all feelings, no matter what it might mean to both his psyche and those around him. He was obviously a fairly damaged man (not that she would ever say that to him or to anyone else about him), who had been treated quite terribly and at some point in time built a persona to be able to cope with it all. She could appreciate it, and she for the most part didn’t judge it.

However, with Lucifer, there are days that she feels even her skill set is no match for his particular brand of bullshit.

Today was one such day.

He had been unusually quiet for the last two hours, staring off into space for long stretches of time. He had also been extremely useful in pinpointing the different underground spots that a simple Google search would not have revealed, as they made their list and gridded out the possible pick up spots. 

In and of itself, nothing too out of the ordinary. Working and being productive is not outside of Lucifer’s repertoire after all. 

No, what was strange and what had Chloe watching the man without directly watching him was his new…tic he had started developing in recent weeks – brushing the side of his neck.

He did it all of the time now. 

Whenever he wasn’t speaking and wasn’t immediately involved in anything that required his complete attention, Lucifer had started (seemingly unconsciously) brushing with light fingertips the left side of his neck…near his unmarked Sub gland.

Chloe could at least to herself admit it was very distracting. Lucifer was a very attractive Sub, and knew that he was. His body was practically carved out of stone with every detail, every curve, ever divot, every feature…perfect. His hair even was perfect and he kept it just long enough that it was the perfect length for pulling. How he could have lived some twenty odd years without finding a Dom that would want to snatch him up, she could only slightly understand. 

Only slightly, because whether the Sub was aware of it or not he was the perfect example of his designation. Kind. Generous. Hilarious. Naturally submissive. Slightly naïve and easily led. Amazingly intelligent. Out of this world beautiful…honestly, she could on. She knows that the only real reason he could possibly still be alone is because he chooses to be, not because he didn’t already have the whole package.

Chloe quietly sighs to herself and shakes her head, not breaking whatever reverie her partner must be lost in. She is aware that her mooning over him is completely unprofessional, and that he would immediately quit working for her if he knew that her affections were far more than a passing attraction. He was far too prickly and skittish to take her attentions as anything but a possible threat.

So instead she watches him touch his neck from the corner of her eye as he either stares out into the middle distance, contemplating something to himself or reading through things on his ever-present phone. 

She doesn’t believe he is doing it on purpose, because the Sub does not have a subtle bone in his body, and if he was doing it as a way to draw attention to his status as unmarked and try to tempt her into taking him he would be MUCH more obvious about it.

Doesn’t stop her from wondering…what if?

What if he wasn’t so convinced he was the Devil and didn’t have enough issues to give therapists the ability to write another DSM?

What if he was just a regular man who met her under regular circumstances and they had started a regular conversation that led to a regular date and then maybe a regular love affair?

What if he saw her as an option for something more than just a partner to help pass his boredom from his charmed life?

What if he was attracted to plain Jane her, and would even entertain the idea of accepting a mark from her?

What if…what if…what if…

But Chloe is a detective. 

And a damn good one. 

Who believes in the present and not fanciful delusions, no matter how appealing. So instead of voicing any of her own musing she lightly taps her pen across the knuckles of the hand he left sitting on her desk.

That draws his eyes to her, and what beautiful eyes they are. Dark brown, near black. Unfathomably endless and yet clouded with innocence she can’t exactly describe. Framed by dark lashes that are perfectly spaced, and lined with kohl eyeliner that her hindbrain screams how much she wishes to make run down his high cheekbones from his tears of pleasure.

She fights her instinct and smiles softly at him. “You’ve been quiet for a little more than ten minutes now. Care to share?”

Shaking his head, he pulls back and slumps against the back of the chairs he’s sat in. “I apologize, Detective.”

“No need,” she reassures and turns back to her computer. “Got any ideas that might help us here? I think the list is complete, unless we missed something.”

Sighing, he fiddles with the pen in front of him, “I don’t believe we have. I guess I…” he pauses, clearly searching for the right words, “…feel badly for the victim.”

“Victims,” she corrects. “Plural. They were both murdered, Lucifer.”

He nods at her, dismissively. “You’re right, of course. It’s just made me think about something that was said this morning that I couldn’t seem to....digest, is all. Power as the sub? Complete folly,” he scoffs. 

“Is that what your mother said?” she presses gently, and opens an email that had just come up on her screen. 

“Indeed,” he hums. “She seems insistent that I have some sort of power as my designation that I was never grateful for. What nonsense,” he snorts. “All power I may have had was stripped away after my fall, after all. The very creations I toiled over instructed to disown me on top of everything I lost. Poppycock, I say. Utter garbage to tell me I have any sort of power in my position.” He sets his jaw in an angry line and glares at his hand touching the pen. 

Ignoring the bits that she mentally filed as “More Devil Nonsense,” she eyes him critically. “Far be it for me, Lucifer, to contradict you on your family and what they mean to say – but can I offer an opinion?”

Huffing, the Sub glances at her in assent.

“Perhaps you are looking at what she means incorrectly?”

Flabbergasted, he stares at her. “Incorrectly how, Detective? I lose everything because I want the ability to choose my own path, my own way, to ASSERT some control and power over my own choices and she dares insinuate that I ever had any at all?”

“Lucifer,” she sighs, and closes her inbox before turning to face him head on. “I don’t know what all happened between you and your father. Or you and your siblings. Or you and your mother, now. Because you won’t talk to me about it, and that’s fine. But I am a little tired of hearing that Subs have no power or control from you, when it couldn’t be farther from the truth. Obviously, you were not around a healthy relationship to know or understand this, and I am so sorry that today provided the vehicle to reinforce your already low opinion of the whole deal…” she says a little roughly, then sighs and continues softer, “…but Subs actually have ALL of the power in the relationship. At least, that’s the way it is supposed to be.”

Intrigued, Lucifer sits back once again, dubious to the train of thought. “And how is that?”

“Because, Doms are SUPPOSED to be giving the Sub what they need by taking care of them, providing for them, helping them stay safe and sane, and whatnot. And in return they provide the Dom with the ability to calm their needs as well. It’s a give and take. On both sides. And a good, healthy relationship, hangs on the happiness the Sub has with their Dom,” she explains. “I think this is something you really need to discuss with your therapist.

Lucifer seems to be mulling over this new information, expression thoughtful. He says and nearly makes Chloe fall over as she begins to stand, “And you would provide that sort of relationship, yes?”

She feels as though she’s been called out, and she looks him over carefully wondering where the trap is in his expression. But he doesn’t seem to be hiding anything, simply asking. He seems…tentative almost, like her answer is incredibly important to him, and yet earnest and slightly innocent. Almost like a child asking if Santa is real.

“I believe that I do, yes,” she says after a moment that felt like a lifetime. “Dan and I were happy long before we weren’t. And the reason for our separation had absolutely nothing to do with the issues you seem to have with Pairing, and everything to do with his lying and gaslighting me.”

“Right,” he mumbles and thinks a moment before standing up. His expression is now closed off, almost as if he is physically changing topics in order to keep from thinking too hard. Chloe nearly sighs in frustration. One step forward, five steps back. “Well, I believe we need to check in with Ella as I saw her return about an hour ago. Surely she might have something for us to use as we go to some of the locations on our list.”

“Okay,” she replies and watches him all but run to the lab, shaking her head. 

~C&L~

“It’s insane is what it is,” Ella is saying, not that Lucifer is listening at this point. “Nailing the paddle post mortem, I mean why? Other than making some kind of point. It reminds me of this story I read last week that one of Detroit buddies sent me…”

The Switch can flit from topic to topic so quickly; he finds it best to tune her out unless something useful passes through his ears. He is far too busy trying to understand what the Detective was trying to say. 

ALL of the power? Really? And that’s why the Sub gets a collar and the Dom does not, right? What did all of these people in his life take him for? A total imbecile?

In some ways it angered him that she could buy into the hype she has obviously been programmed to believe in. Of course a Dom would feel that way and view Pairing that way. He is certain that their Sex Education classes even preached that drivel.

And what drivel it was, just to keep Subs in line and accepting of their Dom’s choices for them. Talking about it being a give and take, like the Dom doesn’t do all of the taking and the Sub is left to do all of the giving.

Giving of their bodies, their identities, their love, their affection, their loyalty…Lucifer can feel himself getting more and more worked up the more he thinks about it.

Clearly the Detective didn’t understand because she had had that so called healthy example of a Pairing growing up between her parents that she had tried to emulate with Daniel. She had not been subjected to seeing the other side. Ignorance in truth is what it boiled down to.

“That’s nice, Ella,” the Detective placated. “Was there anything else that you found that might be useful for us?”

“The victims appeared to have been drugged with a substance I could not identify,” she said sadly. “It must be new, something that hasn’t hit the streets yet. But there is high levels of the S hormone in Claire, the Sub, which is what is prevalent when a Sub is…well you know…under.” Ella looks at the table that house the pictures of the poor girl’s face in sympathy.

Chloe bites her lip to hold in her anger at this. “Then it is probably safe to assume that she was forced into a drop, right?”

Ella nods. “It looks like that’s what happened.”

Coming back to awareness, Lucifer growls lowly making the other two look his way warily. “We must find whoever had the gall to make this poor woman suffer so much.”

“Lucifer,” Chloe says gently, “we will. But we need to remember that both of them suffered. I can only imagine how agonizing it would have been for Samantha, the Dom, to probably be forced to hurt Claire like this.”

Disbelievingly, Lucifer pulls back with a not nice smile. “Typical, what a Dom thing to say. I can guarantee you it has nothing on what Claire was feeling, Detective. Forced under into a drop and then beaten to death by your chosen is a horrific way to go. The fear, the betrayal, the confusion, the…” he stops, and Chloe feels both angry at Lucifer’s rather mean dismissal and sad for how he must know what he is talking about. 

With a sound of displeasure, her partner leaves the lab. Chloe doesn’t call for him as she watches him go stand by her desk, clearly needing a minute to pull it together.

“Man,” Ella says, “capital I issues with that one, hon.” She shakes her head and gathers the pictures together, as Chloe can’t figure out if she feels angry with Lucifer, sad for him or embarrassed to have been chastised for something that was arguably not a smart thing for her to say. 

“I see how you look at him, you know,” Ella continues. “He sure is a pretty one, and I’m sure the sex would be on a whole new level,” Chloe bites back her possessive growl. “But don’t forget that that,” she points to a pacing Lucifer who looks as though he is actively trying not to rip something apart, “is also a part of the deal. Sex is great, but with a guy who hated his life so much he decided to become the Devil, comes a whole bunch of other stuff you know?”

Chloe knows she is just trying to be a good friend, but she can’t help but feel affronted on Lucifer’s behalf.

“Lucifer isn’t my Sub, but if he was I would be very lucky to have him. Issues and all,” she says firmly, making Ella immediately drop her head a little in obvious submission, and feeling appropriately chastened. “Thank you for finding this out for us, we will talk to you later when we get back,” she says and all but storms from the lab.

Coming to stand in front of her partner, she squares her jaw and call on a confidence she doesn’t feel, “I didn’t mean to imply that what Claire went through wasn’t worse. Of course it was. But we need to stay objective.”

Lucifer glances at her, clearly angry but petering out on some of the more volatile feelings. “You’re right, Detective,” he replies, clipped. “I apologize.”

She nods her acceptance and loosens her stance. “Come on, let’s use some of that for finding our bad guy, okay?”

Looking at her with those same dark eyes she had been ready to write sonnets about before and seeing how they had become more guarded in such a short time, she nearly closes her eyes in defeat. But instead, she takes his nod and gesture towards the elevator to mean he was ready to get down to business.

She hopes it won’t be the death of her, like she is beginning to think this Sub will be.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OMFG YOU GUYS! I'M SORRY IT'S BEEN 10,000 YEARS!
> 
> Work, life, family, fucking everything has fucking nuts. But alas a wild plot appears. I will get back and answer all the comments I haven't had the chance to answer I promise. I appreciate the continued love and support. I WILL be finishing this series. I'm just way overloaded with so much! So THANKS for your patience and hopefully you will feel this chapter was worth the wait. Without further ado...ENJOY!!!!

Riding with the Dom Detective after the fiasco in the lab was awkward to say the least. 

He was largely silent for the majority of the trip, only making noise when he changed the radio station and attempted to hum along in order to appear calmer than he actually felt. The truth was he was entirely unsettled and more than just a little confused.

The Dom had apologized to him; had actually acknowledged that the sympathy he felt for Claire wasn’t misplaced. That she might have been insensitive to suggest otherwise. She…she validated his anger.

What a strange day.

No one validates his feelings. They usually write him off or tell him to get over himself.

Admittedly, Lucifer knows his outburst had been unfair to her. She was a good Dom, a good person – she would have never meant what she was saying in as a way to cast aside the poor sub’s fate. He knew that.

He knew that even as he had blown up at her.

He also knew that she had been correct, as well. 

If the Dom had indeed cared for her sub, being forced to inflict pain to the point of death would have probably been at the very least a troubling experience before meeting her own end. Although he has a harder time accepting that any Dom could find the infliction of pain on their sub as anything more than regularity, he was attempting to see the other perspective. If for no other reason, than if it was possible that a Dom like the Detective would find such things as repulsive as she did, it was possible there were others out there who had the same beliefs.

Unlikely, but possible.

With all of this swirling around in his head, Lucifer was struggling as to what he should do with himself. 

Part of him feels guilty enough for the earlier outburst to have a compulsion to be begging forgiveness for his transgressions. His hindbrain was all but screaming at him to prostrate himself before her, offer himself up to her hands for sentencing. To allow the Dom to inflict upon him her punishment and swear fealty to her feet as he accepted her wrath from above.

He could even picture in his mind’s eye how it would look – her looming above as he cowers below, crying for mercy but understanding he deserves none. He had embarrassed her in front the Switch – nay…in front of the whole precinct by defying her so boldly and rudely, by pacing in front of her desk as if some caged animal ready and waiting to pounce.

He shivers. He had acted so indecently.

But the other larger, more stubborn part felt as though he should revel in the Dom’s obvious discomfort at his silence. Why should he feel disgusted with himself, as if she had any claim over his person or what he does? He felt that niggling anger in the recesses of his mind growling about anyone even thinking of dictating his actions.

He was an independent sub who had no master; least of all a human master with designs on controlling the divine.

And then he’d catch himself, and remember she had never claimed to want that anyways. She didn’t even believe he could be the Devil. All she had ever done is treat him as her equal in all things.

He was so confused.

Did he offer an apology now? He had overreacted; it was acceptable social human behavior to simply apologize at the very least. 

However, maybe her stretching silence and ensuing discomfited demeanor is some sort of long con? Luring him slowly into a false sense of security. 

Maybe he didn’t know her quite well enough and he had finally stepped over a line too far? 

Maybe this was the straw that broke the camel’s back and he would finally see the Dom for whom she was underneath; because no Dom would allow him to behave the way he did earlier. 

Surely this was some kind of trick?

He glances at her from the corner of his eyes and staves off a grimace. She appeared to be lost in thought with a frown set upon her pretty lips that he had put there. She certainly didn’t look to be someone plotting his demise, just merely…sad…

His gut twisted and rolled around, ice filling his veins. He had made this Dom unhappy. This kind and considerate Dom who took him places and didn’t treat him like his opinions were useless; who listened to him and told him what he was feeling was accepted; who took his bad behavior in stride (for the most part) and never tried to punish him for it…he’d ruined it. 

All he’s ever been good at is making people unhappy, making people hate him. 

He looks down at his hands and plays with his starlight ring, fighting off a wave of nausea. He should have known he’d muck it all up eventually. His one real friend…the one person he cared to know how they felt about him…will leave him soon.

Alone again…always so alone.

“Lucifer?” the Detective quietly asks, almost uncertain.

He closes his eyes before trying for an even tone of voice, clearing his throat and flicking his watery eyes her way, “Detective?”

“You’ve been really quiet,” she says, and steals a glance his way, noting an unnatural sheen in her partner’s eyes and frowning more. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he huffs, and looks out of the window. 

He was not fine, Chloe internally noted and sighed herself. “You didn’t even comment on the last guys choice of Barbie pink pocket square with cranberry suit jacket.”

Rolling his eyes, Lucifer knows this is an attempt to lighten the mood but his melancholy refused to break. He rubbed at his eyes and said, “Sometimes bad fashion needs no comment for how obviously atrocious it is. If even you saw it, why need I bother?”

“Look,” she ventured, and attempted to relax her death grip of her steering wheel. “I’m trying here Lucifer, okay? I can see this case is affecting you a lot. You really look like you need to talk.”

Lips pulling back in a half snarl, Lucifer ground out, “I really don’t.”

“Lucifer,” the Dom sighed. “This is what partners do for each other. They talk about the cases that get to them. To keep from it affecting them too deeply.”

Lucifer flicked slanted eyes her direction before straightening in his seat as he said rather coldly, “I have a therapist I pay quite handsomely, Detective, but thank you for the concern. I merely wish the find the degenerate scum who ended their poor lives and punish them accordingly.”

Chloe bit her lip in frustration, knowing a firm “FUCK OFF” when she hears one. Trying a different tactic, she decides to change gears and switch to discussing the distressing case. “I guess we can probably cross pink pocket square off our list of suspects.”

“Because of bad fashion?” Lucifer snorts. “How droll.”

“No because he was my height. Ella had mentioned when you quite obviously zoned out that the angle of the bullet into the back of…the back of the Dom’s head,” she had to catch herself from letting too much emotion color her tone, “had to be from someone at least six feet tall.”

Ignoring her calling him out for spacing on her, he nods his head. “And also for his bad fashion and sub standard club. All of his wines he had on display he can buy in bulk at a Costco. Savagery.”

Chloe smiles softly, resisting the urge to glance in her partner’s direction. That’s the Lucifer she knew. “Absolutely. I also peeked at his prices. Fourteen dollars for a six ounce glass of Robert Mondavi.”

Lucifer shook his head, feeling himself begin to unwind a little from the safe choice in topic. “Theft at its finest. Even the name was an assault to the senses. The Happy Smiles Club. Happy for what exactly? Bottom shelf liquor, recycled furniture and dated décor? He may be a criminal for his frankly ridiculous charade but not a killer. I fear it’d give him too much credit.”

“Agreed,” she nodded with a chuckle, happy to hear Lucifer fall into one of his usual rants. They pulled into a parking spot in front of the last stop before she was calling it quits for the day. 

The Bullet was a little hole in the wall leather bar she had heard of before. The usual clientele that she had been able to find were Switches, looking for the ability to be whoever they wished for the evening. Not defined by one desire or the other. 

It always was a source of contention with Dan that he was more Dominant than submissive in his ranking, and she was very Dominant in hers. When she had been tested as a teen reaching her majority, they placed her at an eight and a half out of ten for tendencies. She never quite understood why exactly considering she didn’t feel as though she should be that high, but her mother said her report showed very strong instincts for protection and possession. Making her numbers higher than maybe her sexual drive did. 

She had never felt a true need to make her sexual partner feel inferior like some Doms she had come across with her same ranking. Instead, she had always felt a strong need for nurturing and bringing her partners intense pleasure by her hands. But it was fair to say she was a jealous lover and sometimes rather demanding - maybe not sexually but interpersonally.

However, Dan had always quietly (or in some cases not so quietly) resented that she was quite a bit more Dominant than his previous partners where he felt more on even footing. It had eventually led to fights she would rather not think about considering the effort she took just that early afternoon to point out to her sub partner that she and Dan had been happy once. 

Which was true. 

They had.

Just maybe not for as long as she had implied.

“The Bullet,” Lucifer broke into her thoughts. “Rather on the nose if you ask me.”

She shook her head in amusement and opened her door. “Which is why I didn’t.”

“Rude,” Lucifer said with mock offence.

Walking through the metal doors, Chloe immediately noticed the stage that took up a good third of the right side. It was outfitted with a stand up piano and other various instruments – denoting that a band played regularly. The wood of the platform that stood approximately three feet off the ground and spanning a good fourteen feet in length looked incredibly worn and scuffed, as well as in need of a new coat of stain since it looked rather orange instead of brown from afar but was most likely just old. It was splintering in places – probably from overzealous performs bouncing around on it and compromising its already waning integrity – and it seemed so very…average…in comparison to the rest of the bar that had an almost vampiric den of sin ambiance going for it. 

What with the black studded leather couches and velvet blood red curtains lining the walls. 

Chloe shuddered as she felt a chill pass through her and saw a woman in a leather-studded collar sitting in the back corner, eyeing them suspiciously from beneath her heavy bangs with a drink in her bejeweled hand. 

The tables were all black edged with the center tops being a wavy red, blue and purple metallic; giving a very needed pop of color in an otherwise incredibly dark space. The bar’s front panel appeared to be galvanized metal plating with industrial looking grommets holding it in place and the bar top was a continuous block of darkly stained wood. The seats lining the bar were all backless, purple cushioned, and made of wood; and the liquor offerings on display made even Lucifer nod his head in slight approval.

There weren’t many patrons besides the creepy woman in the corner. It was early in the afternoon after all. But the bartender waved them over as he looked up – eyes lined with kohl and lips colored plum with both a medusa piercing as well as snakebite piercings and electric blue hair. 

Lucifer smirked. Well, well, well.

The fellow was undeniably attractive under beneath his dated early Green Day aesthetic of black button down over black t shirt and chunky plastic jewelry. And although he felt no desire to bed the man, some harmless flirting might help increase his otherwise maudlin spirits.

“Hello, there,” he drawled and sidled up to the counter, drawing the attention of Chloe’s rather hard stare. “We were hoping you might be able to help us – uh – Krev?” he asked more than said after reading the name off his name badge. 

Well, that little detail made his eyebrows raise a hair as he looked into the young man’s brown eyes before he decided to shove that aside and smile his most charming of smiles. So the young man likes to feel a little dangerous? Can’t be weirder than being the literal Devil. 

The man stared at Lucifer with the typical reaction of enamored awe and undisguised lust. It made Chloe’s teeth itch as she saw the slight haze settle over the Switch’s features and Lucifer demure his way in an obvious show to simply get a reaction. 

But whether the reaction was from her or the Switch was the million-dollar question.

The million-dollar question she doesn’t have time to answer at the moment.

Chloe cleared her throat to break the spell that had fallen over the bartender at Lucifer’s obvious charm. She felt herself bristle at his attentions on the man and had to force herself squash her rising irritation. He was just being Lucifer, isn’t that what she wanted not even five minutes ago?

“Uh, sure, I guess,” the man stammered out in a surprising tinny pitch of a voice and put down the glass he was holding. “How can I help you guys?”

“I’m Detective Decker of the LAPD, this is…”

“Lucifer Morningstar,” he cut in with a wider grin. 

“…my partner,” she finished a little stiffer than she meant. “We wanted to ask a few questions and see if maybe you might recognize someone?”

The guy nodded his head. “I’m sure I can try,” he replies a little uncertainly.

“So Krev,” Lucifer said and leaned forward. “Is that your real name?”

“Actually, no,” the man sighed, as he blushed a little. “My name is David. David Hernandez. Krev is just like a title, I guess, around here. I’m still new here, really. Only been here a couple of months.”

“Title?” Chloe asked with interest, getting comfortable against the bar top.

“Yeah,” he says more confidently, “It means…”

“Blood,” Lucifer finishes for him. “In Czech. I know.”

“You do?” Chloe blurts surprised.

Affronted, Lucifer scoffs, “Of course I do. I speak the language.”

Gaping, Chloe sticks a pin in that for a later discussion. 

Krev – no – David, nods his head. “Yeah, what he said. It means blood. The owner is apparently from the Czech Republic or something. I don’t know. Never met them,” he shrugs nonchalantly. “But the other guys around here told me its like to feed into the whole…” he waves his hand around, “…demonesque vibe they have going on.” 

Chloe takes another glance around at his gesticulation and can’t help but agree with his description. 

“So you as the bartender are the ‘Blood’ of the operation? Getting everyone to buy more alcohol and such rot?” Lucifer intones curiously. “How interesting.”

“I mean, yeah, I guess,” he shrugs again. “I honestly don’t know. I took the job because they actually pay a decent salary on top of the tips; and I didn’t have to change out of my scene gear. What’s a little strange roleplay for a sweet gig, right? I mean I feel really accepted as me, you know?”

Lucifer nodded sagely.

“So then every bartender is named Krev? How does that work exactly?” Chloe nearly snorts.

“Well, no, I’m Krev. That woman over there,” and he points to the creepy woman in the corner from earlier, “is Žíla. Which means ‘vein.’ Like in a ‘vein’ in your body kind of way.” He chuckles seemingly idiocracy, very clearly not buying what the club was selling. “Her real name’s Tiffany Kraus. There’s also Tepna and Cévy, which apparently mean artery and blood vessel. They work the closing shift usually.”

“Right,” the Dom detective nods. “Well that’s good to know in case we need to speak with them. I know you said you said you’ve only been here a couple of months, but other than the ‘demonesque vibe’ as you so called it, have you noticed any weird behavior around here?”

He looks thoughtful for a moment. “I mean, no. Like I’m fairly sure everyone that comes here knows that all of this is just for show.”

“So there are regulars then?” Lucifer asks with a slight smile.

The young man lets off a huff, “Oh yeah. I mean personally, we may get some weirdos, but not anymore than my last job. At least here people are openly weirdos.”

Chloe nodded, “Mr. Hernandez, my partner and I are investigating the death of a couple of women who were possibly in this area sometime between ten and 1 oclock last night. I was hoping I might be able to ask if you might be able to place them if I showed you a picture?”

David nodded and leaned forward to take the cell phone from Chloe’s hand to look at the Facebook picture Ella had sent to her earlier. His face immediately pulled into a grimace and he muttered a pained ‘Oh my God,’ under his breath.

“I take it you did know them, then?” Lucifer offered.

David nodded and looked at the picture for moment longer before setting the phone on the bar top with a deep frown. “Yeah,” he replied sorrowfully. “Yeah I did. We all did here. They were some of the only straight pairs that come around here. They tipped really well and were so nice to everyone. They just liked to see the band play and the get ups some of the leather heads would wear.”

As if sensing a decline in the mood, the aforementioned Žíla appeared beside him swiftly with a scowl on her face. Her obviously aggressive mood immediately put both the detective and Lucifer off, making them quickly trade identical looks of suspicion. 

“What’s going on, Krev?” she asks gruffly with a lightly accented voice. 

Lucifer immediately placed the accent as Eastern European, which would correlate to the Czech Republic, but chose not to comment on it. He’d mention it to the Dom detective later.

“It’s Samantha and Claire, Z,” he says to the woman mournfully. “Something happened to them.”

Tiffany didn’t appear to be nearly as broken up about it as David, the detective noted internally. Filing away the woman’s masked sneer and barely hidden eye roll.

“Sad,” she said with a glance to the phone still sitting on the counter. 

“Miss Kraus…” the detective began.

“I prefer Žíla,” the woman said with the same sneer from before.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow and stood a bit closer to the Dom subconsciously. 

“…Žíla,” Chloe said with slight agitation, “have you noticed any strange behavior around here, lately.”

“No,” she replied shortly and gave Lucifer a hard stare that made the sub feel surprisingly uneasy for some inexplicable reason. “Nothing strange. Business as usual.”

“Shady business?” Lucifer asked with a snort.

Instead of making any outward expression that he had said anything, Žíla merely tilted her head at him as if studying a particularly interesting bug. “How very…prosaic…of you Detective.”

Resisting the urge splutter, Chloe looked at the woman with a flinty stare. “What is?”

“Bringing your sub to work with you like a common pet on a leash.”

Lucifer drew back for a second to digest the woman’s words, then growled lowly, rearing up to respond. However the Dom beat him to it by immediately stepping in front of her partner with obvious purpose. “Lucifer is my partner. He is a consultant with the LAPD. He is not my ‘pet’ and being a sub does not mean he is any less of an asset to my team.”

David, having fallen silent, stood and watched the exchange with no small amount of nerves as he began to draw back from the trio. Lucifer, on the other hand, felt his face begin to burn and not with embarrassment but with his loosening control on his Devil face. This-this cretin dare insinuate he was a pet! 

“Yes, I heard your introductions earlier,” Žíla responded. Easy you please. “Nonetheless. Still interesting,” she shrugs, dismissive. “As for the deaths of Claire and Samantha, sad to lose the business but I’m unsure as to what that has to do with us.”

“How did they die?” David spoke up earnestly.

“They were murdered,” Lucifer growled out, “by a psychopath who found torture amusing.”

Gasping, David pulled back even further. “They were tortured?”

“To death,” the sub reiterated with his teeth bared, from over the shoulder of the Detective. “Tortured. To. Death.”

“Oh my God,” David gasped, horrified. 

“Trust me, my Father had nothing to do with it.”

Chloe put her palm on her partner’s lower stomach to quietly tell him to shut it without drawing the attention of the two Switches. After the Žíla’s obvious diss of him, the last thing she wanted to do was show any signs of contention. 

Žíla, no longer hiding her eye roll, cut in with agitation. “Once again, that’s very sad. What does it have to do with us here?”

“Were Claire and Samantha patrons last night?” Chloe asked, no longer in the mood to continue beating around the bush. 

David nodded his head. “I am almost positive I saw them shortly before I left. I work 2 to 10 most days. Unless I have to pick up a shift for some extra cash. I have a son at home with my girlfriend. He’s four. So I have to make sure I’m home at a reasonable time because I take him to preschool in the morning.”

The Detective nodded. “Okay. That’s helpful. I am going to have to request to have access to your security tapes so we can possibly get a bead on when they might have left and who they were with.”

Žíla looked as though she were sucking on a lemon. “That’s a request that you’ll have to put in with the owner. I don’t have access to that.”

“Well call them,” Lucifer grouched.

Žíla shrugged. “I don’t have to since I already know what they’ll say,” she leaned forward. “Get a warrant.”

“You do realize the way you are behaving is highly suspect, right?” Lucifer scoffed loudly. “Like you basically have ‘I’m a bad lady who has evil intentions and lair I run off to’ written all over you. Like all over…”

Elbowing him, Chloe nods once. “We’ll get the warrant. Thank you for your time.”

“But Detective!” Lucifer nearly whines and allows himself to be led from the club. “Detective!” he complains again once they are outside. “Can’t you see she’s hiding something?”

Chloe deadpan looks at him. “Lucifer, I think anyone can see that.”

“So why are we leaving? You didn’t even give me a chance to ask that wench what she desires!”

“Because,” she replies firmly and gets in the driver seat as Lucifer sits unhappily in the passenger and they close their doors in near sync, “we got enough to know we need the tapes. And I…” she stops and starts the car, forcing herself to get her breathing under control.

Lucifer looks her way confused. “You what?”

“I needed to leave, okay?”

“Is it your spawn?” Lucifer asks with mild concern, but even more confusion. “I didn’t hear your phone go off.”

“No it’s not Trixie.” 

Lucifer looks out the front window shield with a frown and his brows drawn together. “Then what?”

Chloe takes a second to suck up her courage, and then says rather gruffly, “Before I did something I would get in trouble for to that-that…suspect,” she settles on. Not saying what she really wanted to call the little fucking…

“Darling,” Lucifer groans, “that’s why I needed to ask what she desires. So that way you don’t have to and we can find the killer.” He sighs and relaxes into his seat. “You know, you are right. This case is affecting me. But I know it’s getting to you too. I feel the exact same way…”

“No, Lucifer,” Chloe sighs out. “I don’t feel this angry because of the case…I mean I do but…” she pauses and Lucifer looks over at his Dom detective with his adorable little head tilt and its all Chloe can do to keep from reaching over and grabbing his hand. “She insulted you. It made me angry.”

Taken aback, Lucifer gasps, “You mean…”

“You are not anyone’s pet,” she grinds out. “You deserve better than to be talked about like that. Okay?”

At a loss for words, the man formerly known as the Devil sits in stunned silence. He stares at the Dom’s profile intensely, studying her, looking and searching for the fallacy. All he sees are determined brows, worried bottom lip and shiny eyes. He can’t process how this makes him feel. He literally can’t.

His heart feels both too big and too small. His skin feels both stretched and supple. What was up now is down. He feels like he could cry and yet also wants to smile. Is this what a stroke feels like? Certainly he must have some medical condition he’s developing in the Dom’s presence.

“Oh,” he finally says lamely. “Th-thank you, Detective. I…Well, I…thank you.”

Chloe nods and says nothing. Keeping her eyes forward while Lucifer also stares straight ahead.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soooo I was away again... I'm sorry! I am not giving up on this story, I promise. Thank you for your patience in me getting it out. I just finished this like ten minutes ago. I am sure I missed some grammar mistakes. Please excuse me, I apologize for that too! Enjoy and tell me what you think. This isn't my favorite chapter so far, but it was necessary to set up the coming stuff.
> 
> Talk to you soon!

Present:

Chloe takes a deep breath as she fights her nausea and focuses on her surroundings. She can feel Lucifer struggle to remain still after her giving him orders to do so and that is only making her angrier at their situation the longer it stretches. 

The room they have been stashed in together looks to her to be about five feet by eight feet. Judging by the small bench that is bolted to the wall and held up by a chain that they are sitting on, it could have been used at some point as a holding cell or jail; especially since there is a metal door to her right that has a small darkened window in its top. But the whole room is obviously very old, rusted out and there’s decades worth of dirt and grime all over the concrete floor. 

Leaning back slightly, she can see there is a small window above their heads. In the reflection of the glass, she can see stars and the night sky, which gives her a brief moment of hope. If she can see the stars, that means that what is right on the other side is the outside. Perfect. Maybe they can get out of here. 

Taking a deep breath, she resolves herself to trying to find a way to stand with her sub partner who is currently whining a little under his breath and fighting his urge to squirm. She links her pinky finger with his as best she can and squeezes it in comfort before using her softest Dom voice.

“Little One,” she starts, and flinches at how it loud it is in the near silent room. 

“Mistress,” the sub responds and sags against her back, happy to be addressed by his wonderful Dom and letting a blissful smile stretch across his cheeks. His beautiful Mistress. He’s her Little One. Oh, how he loves her so. Maybe he can serve her? Maybe she will tell him how to make her happy? How to be her good boy?

“I need you to pay attention to me, okay? This is important,” she insists urgently.

Sitting up as straight as his bindings will allow, Lucifer nods his head only slightly dopily. “Yes, Mistress. Anything!” Doesn’t she know he would do whatever she asked? He must be a terrible sub if she has to question whether he would ever deny her what she needs. Beginning to feel distressed and sad, he begins to sob. He’s failed her already. “I’m so sorry, Mistress. ‘m such a bad boy.”

“Shh,” she quiets gently, feeling her hindbrain ache from the deep welling of emotions in her – no, NOT her’s – THE sub. It’s just a chemical reaction; she can’t let herself get carried away. Their lives depend on her keeping a clear head. “Hey, of course not, Little One. You’re my good boy,” she bites her lip after that and shakes her head at herself. “I need to stand and look out the window.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he replies, having no idea what window she means. There’s a window?

“So what I need you to do, is push against my back so we can start trying to stand up together. But you are taller than me, so you are going to have to help me out here. I don’t know how else to do this.”

Too many words, Lucifer shakes his head. Help Mistress stand up? He’s taller? Does she not like that he is taller than her? He’s so confused.

“So on three, push back against me and start to stand up. Okay?”

“Stand up, Mistress?” he feels himself start to panic. He doesn’t know what she means.

“Yes, Little One, on three. One…two…three…” and they both grunt as they begin pushing back against each other and struggle to begin trying to stand and look out the window.

Chloe doggedly ignores the sounds of distress coming from the sub’s mouth. She can’t focus on that just yet, she has to get them to safety. This may be their only chance.

Lucifer for his part is muttering to himself that he hopes that she is happy with him. He doesn’t know if he is doing it right. He doesn’t know why she needs to look out of the window, but finally after what feels like an eternity but was maybe only three minutes they’re standing. 

He doesn’t register how his Dom is currently straining on her tiptoes to see over and through the glass pane; he is instead taking in their surroundings as much as his dropped mind can. Are they in some kind of jail? Is this a game she is playing? He doesn’t like it.

“Mistress,” he says, almost fearfully. 

Chloe finally sees over the rim of the window and gasps, which causes her partner to turn and look out the window as well. She feels anxiety claw up her throat and spill over into a sob. They’re fucked. There’s no way out. There’s no way…

“Mistress?” Lucifer questions, this time even more fearfully. “Is this a game?”

Shaking her head and trying to will herself to stop crying, Chloe breathes deeply and locks her pinky with her partner again; this time to find comfort for herself more than to provide it. It’s all her fault. They’re going to die and it’s all her fault. “Little One,” she starts and sucks in another heavy breath, “it appears we are at sea.”

~C&L~

74 Hours Ago:

After the admission from the Dom Detective that she had to leave a witness before doing something unmentionable, the fallen angel found himself slightly more dazed and confused than he’d been in recent memory. Between the emotional roller coaster that was allowing his building stress to bubble over into an outburst in the middle of the precinct, to finding out that the Dom would actually be genuinely offended on his behalf in such a way, Lucifer was left with quite a lot to ponder.

Which is why, as soon as Chloe had dropped him by his car in the garage, he’d hopped in and headed straight to Dr. Linda, uncaring for his lack of appointment – per usual.

In truth, his sessions with the sub did little to actually help his understanding of his emotional crisis; they were more a way for him to have a sounding board that didn’t take the shape of his head demon. He would never admit it to anyone – let alone the doctor herself – but really he came because it gave him a guaranteed friend that had a fiduciary responsibility to not reveal his deepest wells of angst to a single soul. 

Parking his car in his designated spot and nodding to the passerby’s in the hallways, Lucifer spotted a Dominant male in front of him. Unconsciously, he ducked his head down and to the left, as if to cover his scent gland. For some reason, his heart picked up a few beats and his feet started walking fast subconsciously. What was wrong with him? The man wasn’t even paying attention to him and then he realized he was doing it again – touching the side of his neck self-consciously. 

His hindbrain was flaring up and making him act like a demure little sub! Feeling his eyes heat in frustration with himself, he continued forward without any further pleasant acknowledgments, dead set on his goal.

This was fast becoming an emergency!

“Hello, Dr. Linda!” he burst in with a great flourish. 

Startled, the therapist dropped her pad to the ground and the patient on the couch jumped up in surprise. “Lucifer! What the fu-uh-uh…” she stuttered and nervously eyed the Switch in front of her as she patted her fast beating heart, “huh, fun…what fun times are you here for?” She smiled through her teeth, as the man in front of her did not retake his seat and was currently looking very confused.

Lucifer grinned and stepped further into the room, grabbing the startled Switch by the arm and leading him towards the door. “I have an emergency, dear,” he explains, and reaches into his pocket to grab his business card and hand it to the switch. “Here. Tell Drew at my club – right there on the card – I said you and a friend get open bar for the evening. That’ll cure whatever ails that poor mortal mind of yours,” he smiled his most charming of smiles. “Go nuts! Get drunk! Get laid! Do someone cocaine-”

“Lucifer!” Linda scolded.

“-or don’t!” he insisted with a glance backwards. “I was going to say or don’t. But I need the doctor now so run along then! Off you pop!”

The man took the card, dazed, and was doing his best not to stare at the incredibly beautiful specimen in the form of Lucifer that was still currently touching his arm and herding him out the door before shutting it in his face.

“Well,” Lucifer said to no one in particular, hands on his hips. “He was horrendously average looking but no doubt Maze will smell the misery on him and get out her strap on.” He chuckles as he flounces onto the couch. “She does love a good sad sack.”

Furious, Linda glares at him. “What the hell was that?”

“The Hell indeed,” he replies pleased. “I knew you’d be fine within a few weeks. You look wonderful as always.”

“You cannot just come in here and interrupt my other patients like that!” she insists, standing up and angrily going over to her small file cabinet to pull out his file. 

Crossing his legs primly, he smiles, “Can and did, I’m afraid. Not to mention, surely whatever was bothering that pathetic little man couldn’t be that serious. I sense his night will turn out just fine. Might not even need you anymore, unlike me. So really, I did you favor.” At her sharp eye, he held up a placating hand. “No returns needed in thanks.”

Growling, the sub sits back down in her chair and glares as hard as she can at the man-child in front of her. “So. You needed to see me.”

“Yes, I did,” Lucifer leans forward, suddenly more serious. “I have a major problem and I need to know if I might be dying.”

“What?” Linda asks, concerned. “Might be dying? Lucifer…”

“I can’t stop touching my neck and looking at collars!”

Stunned, the therapist sits back in her chair and processes the words a few times before shaking her head and clearing her throat. “You…you are touching your neck and looking at collars? Okay…I don’t see why that means you’re dying…”

Frustrated, the Devil stands and walks to the window. “I am acting like a bloody buffoon of a human sub!” he grinds out and looks down at the people milling about below. “I’m the Devil! I’m not human. I don’t want a Dom – let alone a small human Dom – and I am the least collar-able being in existence besides!”

“Ah,” she nods and flips to the last page in his file and begins taking notes. “I see. This is about Chloe.”

“No!” the man snorts. “This is about me. Something is seriously wrong with me!” Coming back to stand in front of her, he exclaims, “I yelled at the Detective today unjustly, and instead of scolding me for it like she should have, she told me I was right! And I spent all afternoon trying to force myself to stop from begging her to forgive me.”

Unimpressed, the doctor merely hums and watches the man gesticulate wildly.

“And just a little bit ago, a nasty little witch of a Switch called me a pet sub; and she defended me!” he says, almost scandalized. “But I wasn’t even angry about that! She was defensive on my behalf for it, but really what I was angry about was that they were the ones to say it! And I don’t know what that means, there’s something wrong!”

“No,” the woman insists and crosses her legs. “Nothing is wrong with you. You are beginning to acknowledge your feelings and your instincts are falling into line with that. There’s nothing wrong with what is happening, Lucifer.”

“Pfft,” he scoffs and plops back down onto the couch, finally feeling the weight of the day truly settle onto his shoulders. “That’s even worse. Surely this is what unmated, menopausal subs go through before they kick the can on their sex drive. I must be contracting some kind of human condition, and it is revolting!”

“So you admit you are acknowledging your feelings for Chloe?”

“I admit nothing,” he shoots back. “I merely recognize your observation that my instincts are currently pissing me off because how else can I explain it…unless this is a new manipulation from Father. Ah!” he snaps his fingers. “My punishment! This is his response to not sending Mother back!”

He taps his foot angrily, feeling himself get more worked up the more he thinks about it. “I fulfilled our deal within the context of what was promised. She is serving a sentence that is currently more justified then before. Being forced to work and live and associate with you creatures that she so despises. To maybe gain some perspective and I hate to say it but compassion for the lot of you.” 

“You’re concerned with compassion for us?” she asks with a chuckle.

“I’m genuinely offended, Doctor,” he scoffs. 

Shaking her head at his overdramatic display, she decides to try a different tactic, and puts her pen down. “Tell me about before, Lucifer.”

“Before what?” Confusion spreads across his face, as he looks her in the eye.

“Before…well, before everything, really,” his eyes sharpen to a deadly point and she resists the urge to tense under his gaze. “You seem to hate your status almost as much as you hate your father. Why?”

Licking his lips, the man known as the Satan, leans back and softens his gaze only slightly. “Discussing that has nothing to do with why I seem to have developed a fascination for devices meant for control.”

“I disagree,” Linda says with a shake of her head. “I disagree completely. I think it has everything to do with it.”

“And why is that?” his tone, he knows, is sharper than it should be. He just can’t seem to help himself. “The fear wear off and the curiosity set in? Time to get all your burning questions answered about divinity?”

Linda sighs. “If you want me to help you, I need to know more about you. Where this hatred comes from. I would have thought you would have had something to say about the advent of designations.”

“Decidedly not, no,” Lucifer grunts. “I would never have wanted anyone to-to go through what I did, if I had had a say in any of it in that way. I was made to light the stars, to lead the host of Heaven in song, to-to…”

The man looks off into the distance and feels his mind wandering off to a time that predates the existence of the world and humanity. 

To a time where he was called by another name, when his claim to fame amongst his siblings was that of Light Bringer, father’s Little Star – and not of the Fallen One. 

He feels himself slip back to a time when he didn’t question…anything. He merely sat at his father’s feet and soaked in every glorious word that was said, before going out to his siblings and bestowing on them the wonders of creation that was happening outside their home. Leading them in songs of praise for the glory and magnificence. 

To a time where one of his main duties was caring for his younger siblings by helping them learn to fly, teaching them, and playing with them. Helping them hone their abilities and learn their strengths.

How it was all so simple until…well until it wasn’t anymore. Jophiel, Tzaphkiel, Khameal, Haniel, Sandalphon…even Michael on occasion…all with something biting and cruel to say about his songs, or his wings, or even how much of a weakling he was in comparison to all of them. 

How he was no fighter, no real warrior. 

And the teasing and bullying only got worse the older they all got. All of them so jealous of his position as Father’s right hand, ignoring him as he tried so desperately to fit in…until one day he just got angry. 

“…to help rear my little siblings in a sense, I guess,” he finishes in as much of an even tone as he can manage. “My designation was a curse even before I was cast out,” he finally sniffs. “I’m sure that comes as no surprise.”

“That’s interesting.”

He pulls a face, “Why?”

“I guess I always assumed you were the youngest,” she shrugs and writes down this newfound information in her notes. 

“No,” he shakes his head. “Far from it, actually. More accurately one would call me the middle child.” He tilts his head as he thinks it over, “If there could be a middle child to literal hundreds of siblings. How cliché, really.”

Ignoring the bait, she continues, “So you helped to raise your younger siblings.” 

“Yes. In the terms that humans understand it, I was the caregiver for the fledglings.” He shrugs. “Someone had to do it. Amenadiel surely wasn’t going to and Mother and Father were far too busy. Although I was no slouch, mind,” he flicks his eyes to her. “I was the first and last of my designation in the host for reasons I always suspected had something to do with needing to help care for the younger brats.” He pauses to let that sink in, and oh boy did it ever. She is beginning to see where the real problem lies. “My twin, Michael, was a Dom like the rest of our siblings. He and I were the only of all of us that actually assisted Mother and Father in the creation of existence.”

“Creation of existence,” she sighs. “Wow. That’s-that’s something I never thought I’d discuss in this room.”

“Nor should we, really,” Lucifer says, almost sadly. “Not to be rude, but a mere human’s mind cannot fathom the intricacies of what that actually means or how old we celestials actually are. There are days even I struggle and I have been there for almost all of it. Granted, time is of little relevance to a celestial. When you predate the existence of the sun, what is time?” he chuckles darkly. “Some things – and good Dad, I may loathe the bugger but I will concede this – some things, are really only meant to be understood by Father.”

“Surprisingly mature of you,” she compliments and lets that line of questioning go. “I didn’t realize you had a twin.”

“Well I never told you I did, so how would you know?” he counters. “Michael – I am sure you have heard of the egotistical prat – is my twin, yes.”

Linda thinks that over for a second, trying to swallow that information that there is actually another Lucifer out there running around somewhere in the Heavenlies. Good – well, you know the saying.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he rolls his eyes. “He’s not my twin in looks, per se. It’s not in the human ways of understanding twins,” he coughs slightly. “He is my opposite and vice versa. Our…gifts, I will call them…balance each other’s.”

“I thought your gift was desires?” her brow furrows.

He actually genuinely laughs at that. “That is completely oversimplified. I draw out desires, yes, but that isn’t my gift. That is merely an extension of what I was actually created to do.” He shakes his head at the silly human in front of, honestly amused at her. “For example, Amenadiel’s only gift is not the ability to control time. That is merely an…after effect of what he is. He is Heaven’s foremost fighter. The ability to control time is not exclusive to him; it is merely an increased ability for those who were created as warriors. Although he doesn’t have as many talents as I or some of the rest of us had.”

“So, wait,” she knows she is getting off topic and straying away from her serious therapist face, but she can’t help herself. “Then what you’re implying is that there are…classes…of angels? Like there are groups with specific abilities for specific things…and it’s what? You get assigned from birth where you belong in this class system?”

“It isn’t Hogwarts, Doctor,” Lucifer sighs. “We don’t get plopped out on the ground and a hat gets shoved on our head that decides if we go to the fighter clique or the studious clique and whether we prefer yellow, green, or red.” 

Annoyed, he fidgets in his seat and rolls his eyes again. “I am afraid that there are things you are not fully capable of grasping about angel hierarchy as you are only human. I shouldn’t even be discussing this with you. But to attempt to make it easier to understand, there are three main divinations of angels. What you were designed for dictates what divination you belong in. I, for example, was an archangel. There are only eight of us…seven now, technically. Seeing as I am no longer in grace.”

“I see. And archangels are…?”

“More…powerful than regular angels,” he answers reluctantly. “We were created with the ability to control most – if not all, in my case – abilities that regular angels may only get one or two of. Because our jobs and tasks are much more complex than merely defending the gates of Heaven. Metatron, my older brother, is Father’s bookkeeper. The one sitting and recording all of Father’s commands as well as all of humanity’s little bad deeds. And good deeds.” Lucifer smirks. “Surely you heard in your Sunday school class about how all your little sins are recorded? Well that’s his job. He is also an archangel, although a dreadful bore.”

She blinks and chooses not to ask about that. “So Amenadiel is…?”

“A regular angel,” he nearly smirks. “He was the first of all of us. Mother and Father wanted children. Heaven was a lonely place. It was before there was any grand design or great universe. But as time went on, needs changed, and thus more of us came with more and more to offer. Michael and myself had the ability to create whole galaxies…stars…planets,” his tone is wistful and Linda notices his ring pulse a light shade of amber. “He was able to manifest what you humans now call matter and I shaped it into what you see at night by the direction of Father.”

Her head felt like it might explode. She needed time to process all of that. She shook her head to clear it of the impending fog this knowledge was creating. “To get back on the original subject, you assisted in caring for your siblings. So would you say you feel resentment for doing that?”

Lucifer looks away, “I don’t know what this has to do with why I am fixated on collars, Doctor. Can we please get back to the actual point?”

“Humor me.”

“You will probably say I am text book human middle child syndrome.” He looks disgusted with himself. 

Shaking her head, she picks her head back up. “No, actually, not at all. It makes sense to me. I actually do feel like maybe I understand you more now.”

“I should hope not,” he sounds offended. “I want to make it clear, who I was in Heaven is not at all who I am now. I am the Devil. You don’t seem to hear me when I tell you that.”

“Maybe not exactly, no,” she concedes. 

“So then what was this trip down memory lane supposed to prove? I think my earlier fears were right and you are merely looking to satisfy your piqued interest.”

“No, not at all,” she shakes her head and closes her notebook. “In discussing all of that what I have come to see and understand is you have spent a lot of time blaming your designation for things that has nothing to do with it.”

Pulling back, he barks, “What?”

“Earlier, you actually said you wanted your mother to develop some compassion for humans. Do you think that your siblings, the ones who are regular angels or whatever your were trying to explain, really have that same compassion? Or do you think you might be the only one? Because I may care for Amenadiel a great deal, but I will be honest with you and say I don’t believe he would ever spend time with a homicide detective trying to help humans the way you do.”

Lucifer was speechless for a moment. “You mean to say you think I was made a-a sub,” he bites the word out, “so that I could I care for the humans I was sentenced to be the jailor for?” He laughs, “That is ridiculous. Simply and utterly hogwash. Who I was in Heaven has nothing to do with my suddeny affinity for collars. This is a complete waste of time.”

“But who we are in our early life does shape us as we grow,” she insists. “You were entrusted with great responsibility from young. Maybe too young. You made the stars, Lucifer. You helped to raise your siblings, carried out orders. Do you think someone who was already born with advantages would be trusted to carry out those important jobs? But you felt unappreciated. You were suffering because you felt unseen and used. Marginalized. You rebelled because you needed to be heard. You became this caricature of evil because it was easier…”

Lucifer stands abruptly, towering over her, no longer able to listen. “Easier?! You know nothing about me, Doctor,” he tells her intensely. “You humans think you know who I am. Caricature of evil?” he spits. “You think I would choose to be seen as such? To be vilified? For merely wanting the ability to choose? You think you have the capacity to understand celestials and their affairs after a few discussions with me?”

Linda felt herself shake slightly at the rage she saw building in the fallen angel’s eyes. She was not too big to admit for the first time in his presence, she was afraid. 

Ignoring the scent of human fear, Lucifer continues, “Now there is a Dom who thinks she may have the capability to tie me down. Me?! I may not be evil, but I am still the former ruler of Hell! I will never want a Dom, and I will never willingly wear a collar. There is no one – NO ONE…” he tells her venomously, eyes alight with unrestrained anger, “that will have the ability to command me.”

And with that he storms from the room, not looking back at the doctor and feeling no remorse for his second outburst of the day.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes. I know. I disappeared. I am sorry! I have moved. Changed jobs. Life is a mess. And you're not here to hear that, you're here for the story. It probably has a ton of grammar mistakes. I edited it on the fly trying to get this up. Let me know what you think. Thank you for remaining some of the most supportive people ever, You are THE BEST!!!

70 Hours Ago

Chloe wasn’t sure what to make of the scene in front of her, but she knew that she should probably be more concerned about it than she was.

“So what you’re telling me is…” she sighs and scratches her forehead with a pinched expression, trying to summon the energy she doesn’t have left to go into a Proper Mom Lecture ™, “…you just decided the appropriate response to this girl, was to shove her off the swings and start a fight, because she called you both a stupid head.”

Maze scowls, using a decorative dishtowel to try and clean off her dirty face. “Duh. Kid had it coming. And her ditzy mother needed to know her trust fund doesn’t always save her tits.”

“Yeah!” Trixie pipes up, also covered from head to toe in dirt with mulch sticking out of different parts of her hair. “Rachel’s been picking on me and Luna for weeks now, Mommy! Maze was telling her to knock it off before she gets Lucifer to help her get Indi-Inde-uh…”

“Indago,” Maze supplies, giving up the cause and throwing the ruined towel on the counter.

“…Indago!” she repeats with a determined brow. “…to help her see what happens to bullies!”

Chloe looks from one of her hellions to the other and sighs again. “Is the girl hurt?”

“Only her pride,” the demoness sniffs and plucks an apple out the bowl on the counter, cutting it with her knife she pulls from her back pocket. “Last time she’ll mess with the small human though. That’s a promise.” Maze says seriously, pointing the knife Chloe’s direction to emphasize her point. “And I doubt her boob for brains mother will say anything. Not if she doesn’t want her little meal ticket to learn about the trips to O city she’s been taking with the counselor, if you know what I mean.”

Chloe scowls, about to reprimand the demon for her language when Trixie cuts in.

“Yeah, Mommy!” Trixie crosses her arms, nodding her head succinctly with genuine pride shining from behind her filthy face and sodden clothes. “Last time she’ll mess with me and Luna ever again, and her mommy knows to leave us alone too. Maze told her if she crosses us she would answer to her!”

Closing her eyes, she shakes her head, for once giving up. “You know what? Whatever. Monkey, go take a bath, you’re filthy. We will talk about starting fights in the morning. Mommy’s too tired right now.”

Trixie started to whine until Chloe shot her the classis Mom Means Business ™ look and which made her quickly turn and run for the bathroom. 

Walking to the cupboard to start some tea, Chloe asks Maze quietly, “Who is Indago?”

“Hellhound,” she shrugs and eats another sliver of her apple.

Nodding along, she replies softly, “I would really prefer if you didn’t encourage Trixie to fight and use mythical creatures to scare small children; but thanks for sticking up for her, Maze. She’s really had it rough and it means a lot to me that you would go and do that just because she texts that she needs you. I’m sure you were busy.”

Maze sits up straighter, suddenly serious. “I will always go where the small human needs me. She texted me that that nasty little cretin was picking on her and her friend. So, of course I came.”

Chloe smiles at her over her shoulder, wanting to point out how unbelievably sweet that is but knowing it wouldn’t be appreciated. “That’s why I am saying thanks; because it means the world to her.”

Maze shrugs off the comment and goes back to her apple before sighing to herself and sitting up in the barstool. “So I’ve been thinking of going to the thing you humans call community college and seeing what all the fuss is about.”

Surprised, Chloe spins around, “Really? Wow! That’s great, Maze!”

“Yeah, yeah,” she waves off. “Linda says it would be good for me to have some stupid paper to show for my skills. And since I find the place intriguing due to all the hell loops that fixated on it I thought, well what the home.”

Ignoring the nonsense, Chloe beams at her. “Maze, that is awesome! I am so happy for you. Do you know what you are going to study?”

The demoness shrugs again, flicking her now finished apple into the open trash bin. “I’ll figure it out when I get there, I guess. Linda says anatomy would be too easy for me – but apparently you creatures don’t have classes in advanced torture skills – so I might pick something ironic like religious studious or history. Mostly, just to see Lucifer’s face.” Her grin is that of pure evil.

Chloe laughs at this. “Well, I’m proud of you. At least I can feel like something good happened today.”

Maze observed her from the barstool and lounged back a little bit further. “What’s twisting your granny panties, Decker?”

Snorting, Chloe finished filling the kettle and turning on the burner. “It was just a really long day.”

“Ah,” Maze nods. “Something happened with his highness.”

Making the decision she’s been putting off, she turns to ask the questions she feels like is long overdue. “Has he always been so fixated on his designation?”

The demoness barks a laugh. “Oh, yeah,” she nods. “He’s always been real torn up about it. Seems to think it actually means anything other than whether you feel better pitching or…”

“Maze,” Chloe scolds. “It means a lot more than that. But I don’t want to get into it with you.”

Rolling her eyes, she shrugs. “What happened?”

Chloe stares at her teakettle and begins going back through the day’s events in her mind’s eye. “He doesn’t seem to be taking this case very well. He-well, he yelled at me today; and I think I sort of deserved it for being kind of insensitive. But he’s never been like that before. And then he was just so quiet as we rode around and…” she takes in a deep breath, “…and I don’t know. He just seems like he has a lot of hang-ups about it. He asked me if I provided healthy Dom/sub relationships, and I mean I think I do.”

Maze’s eyes widened, “He actually asked you whether you’re good in a relationship?”

“More like whether I treated subs well…it’s complicated,” she waves off, shoulders slumping. “So, I was just wondering if you knew anything that might help me with him, since I seem to be doing it all wrong.”

A beat ticks by as the demoness observes the woman in front of her with a critical eye. “You want to fuck him, don’t you?”

“What?!” Chloe exclaims. “No! That’s not why I…”

Maze laughs. “Of course you do, Decker. Don’t deny it. He’s a beautiful sub. I get it. And it wasn’t that long ago he was chasing your ass wanting you to pay attention to him so nothing to be ashamed about. What I don’t understand is why you don’t just do it then. He’d certainly enjoy it, and so would you.”

Scandalized, Chloe almost angrily turns away from her as she whips open a cabinet and yanks out a coffee cup. “I want to help him, Maze.”

“And you can help him, by fucking him,” she grins. “Pro tip: harder the better. He likes it rough. Loves to be spanked. He moans real pretty; and when you grab his hair as he eats you ou…”

“Enough,” she practically snarls and slams the mug on the counter.

Pulling back, pleased she had ruffled the Detective’s feathers, Maze’s grin settles into a smirk. “Hmm, struck a nerve, did I? Tell me, was it the fact that I was implying I had done that that was getting to you, or how much you want to do it? Cause let me tell you, Decker, when I got the chance to put him in his place, I took it. And it was glorious.”

“He isn’t yours like that, and he won’t be doing that for you again.” Chloe is trying to control her breathing and settle down. Maze isn’t challenging her and Lucifer isn’t her sub. She shouldn’t be having this possessive reaction, it’s not right. 

“Well how do you know I won’t? Maybe I’ll make him get on his back tonight.” Maze pushes. “And why do you care if you don’t want to?”

“I don’t want you talking about him like that,” Chloe knew, in the small part of the back of her mind, that her tone was taking the steeled edge of a Dom that was about to making a public claim against another that was encroaching on her territory (and she also knew it was completely inappropriate) but she couldn’t stop. All she could see at that moment was a sub being mistreated and how it was her job to end it. “He deserves more respect than this and I won’t allow this in this house. Stop it.”

“Because he’s yours right?” Maze grinned again as she licked her teeth, loving the reactions she’s getting and reveling in the angst she can physically taste in the air.

“Yes! Because he’s mine,” Chloe growled and leaned into Maze’s face that was now laughing in delight.

The fog of Dom rage was beginning to clear as Chloe started feeling her synapses realign and the horror of what she just did without her partner’s permission coming at her from all sides. 

“Oh-oh my god,” she stutters and slaps a hand over her mouth, feeling tears prick behind her eyes. What did she just do? “Oh shit,” she whispers and begins to feel her breath come in short supply. “Oh shit!”

“Relax, Decker,” Maze chuckles. “I won’t tell him you just claimed him from me or how much you want to make him kneel for you. I was only doing that to wind you up anyways, because how else are you going to pull your head out of your ass and make a move. You know you want to. Just fucking do it.”

Chloe shakes her head, feeling awful and like her insides are twisting around in her gut. “I’m sorry. Maze, I’m so sorry,” she swipes at her eyes, forcing herself to keep from crying. “I shouldn’t have done that. I need-well, I need to go and clear my head I think. This wasn’t…” she stops and looks around her apartment, refusing to look Maze in the eye. “Can you…”

Nodding, the demoness takes pity on her and rolls her eyes. “I’ll take care of the small human. Go on. He’s at LUX.”

Chloe just nods absently and grabs her purse by the door. She needs to talk to Lucifer before her head explodes; because she feels like she violated him and she can’t stand it.

~C&L~

The problem with making out with perfect strangers, Lucifer has come to understand, is that you have to get used to the ways that the perfect stranger wants to make out.

For example.

The man he is currently straddling with his shirt half undone and shoes kicked who knew where in his penthouse, keeps using his canines to scrape against his lower lip; and while it was hot the first few times, now it’s becoming repetitive and annoying. He wants to be fucked. He doesn’t want to feel like a vampire is licking him. 

And yes, that is coming from personal experience. That was a bloody awful evening the first go around a couple centuries ago, and one he has endeavored not to repeat since. 

After feeling this once again from the Switch, he huffs and pulls his face back to stare the man down with ill disguised contempt. “Do you know how to do anything else? Or is the teeth scraping the best you got? I thought we’d be naked and going at it by now, surely you’re horny enough?”

Dazed, the Switch practically giggles. “Don’t you like it rough, baby?”

Affronted, Lucifer scoots back in the man’s lap with a sour look. “Firstly, I am not your baby, I’m the sodding Devil. My name is Lucifer. Use it. And furthermore, what precisely is ‘rough’ about this experience?” he snorts and moves further back to begin to stand. “I rather feel as though I’m being gnawed on by a Pomeranian.”

“Aw, don’t be like that, sweet cheeks,” the Switch reaches forward and grabs a now seriously irritated Devil by the hips, dragging him forward. 

“Sweet cheeks?!” Lucifer loudly protests and puts firm hands on the man’s shoulders, pushing away. “Are you serious?”

“I can be rougher,” the man coos and takes the resistant Devil by surprise when he throws him onto his back across the couch to the side of where they were. 

“Oof,” Lucifer puffs out, shocked with the impact before glaring the other man down. “That’s it. This is over.”

As Lucifer begins to sit up, the Switch laughs and shoves him back once more. “Now you’re getting the idea. This is rough, baby. I’m going to make you scream.”

“The only thing I plan to scream right now, is for someone to call an ambulance after I pummel you to dea-…” he chokes on the last words as the man looming above him grabs him by the throat. How is this – oh, bloody hell. The Detective is probably nearby. “Fucking…great…” he grunts and makes to try and push at the man on top of him.

“I like the struggle in subs who don’t know their place,” the Switch continues, gripping tighter. “I like to teach them where they belong.”

Grabbing the Switches’ upper arms and feeling his eyes flash red, Lucifer growls and knees him in the stomach before using – unfortunately only a small measure of – his strength to toss him over the side of the couch with an inhuman roar. The now fully agitated Devil takes in deep gulps of air and hears the call out of pain from the other side of the couch and the sound of the elevator dinging. 

“Lucifer?” Chloe says in a distracted rush, quickly stepping out before gasping at the sight before her. “Oh my god! What’s going on?”

From her perspective, she sees a rather dazed looking Switch struggling to stand beside a couch that houses a half dressed and haggard looking Lucifer. Her first instinct is she has interrupted some kind of strange foreplay, but looking closer at her sub partner’s aborted mannerisms as he is taking in gulps of air and trying to stand himself, she realizes what she actually interrupted was something much more nefarious. 

Rushing determinedly forward, she pulls her gun from behind her back and points it at the Switch who is now starting to realize he’s miscalculated and staggers backwards. 

“Hands in the air!” she barks at the Switch, snarl marring her face. “Lucifer, are you alright?” Chloe asks worriedly looking him over. He is sitting up and grimacing her direction as he starts to stand up.

“Bloody peachy, Detective,” he coughs and heaves forward. “The gun isn’t necessary. I assure you.” He gives a rather dismissive glance the Switches’ direction and starts walking towards his bar, much to Chloe’s irritation. Clearly, he is not that fine. He was almost – and she was almost - …Jesus. 

“You may see yourself out,” he says flatly, voice rough from the choking, to the Switch as he begins to button his shirt. “And I don’t mean back into my club below, I mean out-out. Consent is one of the few rules I do not tolerate crossing the borders of, and I can tell it’s something you don’t seem to have the same feelings about.”

“Lucifer, if he attempted to -…”

“It’s fine, Detective,” Lucifer grunts and flips over a tumbler to pour some Scotch. “He’s going to behave himself and think long and hard about what he was going to try and do, isn’t he?”

“Hey man,” the Switch practically whimpers. “I’m sorry! I just thought you wanted to play hard to get! I swear!”

“Get out,” Lucifer repeats, strained, and slumps on a barstool with a huff. “And be thankful I’m not keen on pulling out your spine through your nostrils this evening on account of being too tired.”

Not needing any other prompting, the man grabs his jacket that’s on the side table and runs toward the open elevator door.

Chloe holsters her gun only after sending one final, withering glare towards the disgusting man before rushing to Lucifer’s side, manically concerned and vibrating with anxiety. 

“Lucifer!” she says on a rush of breath as she gently moves his shirt collar to the side to assess the bruising. “Oh my god! What happened?”

“Don’t bring him into this, please,” he sighs and downs the last of his glass. “It’s been a bloody awful day as it is anyways.”

“You were – and he was...” she can’t even finish the thought, her throat constricting and the reality crashing in around her.

“This isn’t the first time I have dealt with someone rather overzealous, Detective. I am quite capable of handling myself. Did you need something? What are you doing here?”

Stung by his tone and trying not to be, Chloe pulls her hand back and instead looks him over critically. “I needed to talk to you, but it’s a good thing I came when I did. You should go to the hospital and get yourself checked out.”

“I had it under control, I assure you,” came the irritated reply. “Before you even walked out the elevator doors I had already taken care of his intentions. And this,” he gestures to his neck, “will heal just fine without a clumsy human in a white coat looking at it and judging how it came to be in the first place, thank you.”

He pours himself more scotch and gestures to the other glass left on the counter in silent question if she would like to partake. She shakes her head and he shrugs. 

“Now what did you need to talk about?”

Taking a deep breath and looking over the handsome face of this sub who had obviously already had a terrible evening, Chloe makes the choice to table her own angst and emotional awakening for the time being. There was always another day, right?

“I just - …” she starts and feels her breath quicken as dark pools of chocolate turn and face her, expectant and curious. He’s always so effortlessly gorgeous and even when he’s in a bad state he can’t hide it. “I just wanted to ask if you would know anyone in NOHO who might be friends with the owners of the creepy club from today.”

No. That’s not at all what she wanted to ask. Who is a coward and can’t make up her mind? Chloe Decker for two hundred.

Lucifer considers her and then takes a swig before thinking it over. “I’m sure I know someone who knows someone, of course. I had never personally heard of the place or what they were about, but surely with a name like The Bullet and a crowd like something from Edward Scissorhands – crazy blood names and all – someone is likely to know something. Are you thinking it is a front for another operation and that might be where the victims got picked from?”

“Yeah, that’s a theory,” she replies, almost noncommittally, disappointed in herself that she isn’t summoning the courage to discuss what she actually came here for. But maybe this truly isn’t the best time? Glancing around and taking in his appearance again, she sags her shoulders. No, it’s not. “You’re probably tired and wanting to go to bed. I should – I should go.”

Lucifer looks her profile over and shakes his head. “You know I am not fond of liars, Detective. What really brought you here?”

“I’m not a liar, Lucifer,” she snaps at his raised eyebrow. “I just don’t feel what I came here for to be appropriate right now. That’s all.”

“Hmm,” he hums with narrowed eyes and downs the rest of his glass. “Well then, save your secrets,” he all but snarls, obviously affected by her refusal to tell him the truth, and begins to storm off to his bedroom. “Wouldn’t want to make you anymore uncomfortable than I have already today.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Spinning on his heel, the sub replies in a cagey tone, “It’s all I ever do, isn’t it?”

Confused and irritated herself, the Dom runs her fingers through her hair and blows out a breath, “That’s not true, and you know it. Lucifer, you were almost assaulted. I think you need to - …”

“Stop!” he bites out, and storms forward getting in her personal space. “You don’t get to tell me to do or not to do anything!”

Shocked, Chloe pulls back, feeling her face begin to flush in embarrassment. “I’m not - …”

“Yes!” he cuts off in an angry yell. “Yes, you are! You do! And you don’t even see you do. I am not your sub! I am nobody’s sub! Not my father’s. Not my mother’s. Not Maze’s, or Amenadiel’s, or Linda’s. And most certainly not yours!” He screams, and Chloe takes in his expression for the first time that evening. Truly takes it in. 

Lucifer is spiraling out of control, and he doesn’t even see it. It’s been unraveling all day, and she hadn’t done anything to really help it. He’s not yelling at her. He’s not angry with her either. He’s hurting and lashing out because she’s the only one in his life strong enough to take it. So she bites her lip and lets him continue.

“Everyone from my mother, to my therapist, to the bloody jewelry store clerk wants to tell me what to feel. Well guess what?” he spreads his arms, manic smile on his face, “I’m the bloody Devil! I don’t get feelings or stupid human needs of Doms and their control. So you can all just piss off!” And with that he shoves over his side cart next to his piano holding another decanter of scotch and glasses with an angry roar. 

Chloe jumps at the action and calls out in fright, hands going to cover her face. Holy fuck. Holy fucking fuck, she thinks to herself as she looks at the mess the man’s just made.

Lucifer pants heavily and staggers backwards, tripping over his own two feet and clearly puttering out on the fumes of his ire. Chloe makes an aborted move his way before he falls on his ass and puts his head in hands, as if to block out the noise around him. Tentatively she shuffles forwards and puts a gentle hand on the shaken sub before her. When he doesn’t shove her or otherwise respond, she carefully drops to his level and gathers him in her arms as best she can in the awkward position.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, voice stuck on the beginnings of a sob. “I’m so sorry.”

She shushes him and gets more comfortable, letting him put all his weight on her and truly begin to fall apart. She feels the wetness leaking out of his eyes and onto her shoulder but doesn’t comment on it. Choosing instead to rub his back quietly and let him have a moment to put himself together again. 

When he’s calmed down and quiet, she sighs deeply. Drawing all of her courage together, she starts, “The reason I came here is because I did bad thing. A thing I never want to do. A thing I was afraid you could never forgive me for.”

Lucifer breathes a sad laugh, “That’s silly, Detective. You aren’t able to do anything as bad as that. I’d always be able to forgive you.”

 

Chloe stares straight ahead, lips pulled tight and voice strained, “Maze was saying some things about you and I might’ve…not liked it very much.”

Lucifer brows drew together and he turned his wet eyes to her face. “What?”

She looks down to meet his gaze, feeling the tide turn. This was the moment to tell him. This. Right here. Right now. This was the moment to kiss him and tell him what she had been feeling, and what she had said that evening. To finally take that plunge.

She was going to do it. She was going to -…

“She…” a breath, “had gotten Trixie to start a really bad fight in school, and blamed it on not knowing how to better problem solve without violence. So, I have assigned her to shadow Dan the rest of the week and help us with the investigation.”

What is she doing? That isn’t what she meant to say. Go back!

Now thoroughly confused, but also clearly distressed, Lucifer pulls back but remains in the embrace, “She’s going to what? Oh no. No, Detective, this will be dreadful!”

“Sorry, I know.” She shrugs, ignoring the slap she feels her mind giving her mouth. She’s blown it, and there’s no going back now. “But she needs to see not everything gets solved with violence. Especially when dealing with delicate matters.”

“She’s a demon,” he deadpans. “Violence is who she is. Bloody hell.” He sits up fully and Chloe feels the loss of contact like a gut punch. She blew it. She will cry later, she knows. But what else is new? “I guess there is solace in that she will be bothering Detective Douche.”

Chloe does chuckle at that, and then realizes she’s going to have to go home with her tail between her legs and explain this to her assassin roommate. That sobers her.

“Well then, we will have a busy day tomorrow,” he says and starts to stand. “I guess good Detectives need to go get their beauty rest.”

“Yeah,” she sighs and takes his offered hand to stand herself. “Are you going to be okay?”

Lucifer grimaces. “I apologize for the outburst…again. I…do think this case has me in a bit of a spin, as it were.”

“What happened with that Switch doesn’t help,” she finishes and nods her head. “You can talk to me, you know. I want to help you…always.”

The sub nods his head. “Same for you, Detective. Thank you.”

The smile he gives her – even with eyes still bloody shot and watery; even with a bruise beginning to blossom around his neck, disgustingly close to his unmarked gland; even with his posture not quite as sure and confident as she’s used to seeing – is enough to steal every last piece of her heart she has left. She is well and truly fucked.

“Of course,” she coughs and turns to start toward the elevator.

“And Detective?” he calls softly, sounding more vulnerable than she’s heard from him. It’s enough to stop her in her tracks and turn back to him, ready to run to him and change her mind on it being too late. “I…well I…” Lucifer bites his lip, before standing straighter and continuing, “I believe what you said this morning.”

Thrown, she replies, “What?”

“That you would provide a good, healthy relationship for a sub,” he finishes. Seemingly pleased, and not at all concerned by how red her face immediately got. “Any sub would be…blessed to have you as a Dom. And I don’t want you to think that I somehow…don’t think that of you just because I’m – well, me.” He looks at his foot and scuffles his feet, then looks back up. “You truly are…good.”

Chloe feels her own eyes water and smiles at him. “Thank you.”

He nods, sucking a deep breath. “Anyways. I will see you tomorrow.”

“Yes,” she nods, heart a little lighter with the sparking of hope flaring up in her chest. “Tomorrow.”

~C&L~

Six Hours Later - Somewhere In North Hollywood

A man holding a blowtorch smiles his yellow teeth at his latest creation. 

“And He saw that it was good…” he cackles, before lighting the torch.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> YOU GUYS!!!!!!!
> 
> I got the house to myself today, so I could write this. Granted, it wasn't edited because I wanted to get it up before I didn't get back to it but HERE YOU GO!
> 
> By the way, you all are so very very very wonderful! And so kind to me. Thank you for being so understanding about my long time between updates. I wish I could write down what all is going on, but I won't bore you with that. Thank you for supporting my writing here and telling me how much you love it. It means so much :)

Present:

“Okay,” Chloe breathes out, battling her tears and trying to keep from shaking in fear. “Okay, we need to breathe.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Lucifer responds fearfully, head snapping back and forth between the window revealing the ocean below and the small room around them. “I don’t like it here, can we play another game?”

Squeezing her eyes shut to stop the flow of tears threatening to fall and forcing back a scream of frustration, she takes in a big gulp of air and squeezes the sub’s pinky finger again. “Little One,” she says as soothingly as she can, “I know it’s hard for you to understand me right now, but we are in serious trouble.”

“Trouble?” Lucifer cries, fat tears immediately welling up and rolling down his face, as he sags against her back. “I’m s-sorry, Mistress. I’m so sorry I was bad. I’ll-I’ll be good. I promise!”

Chloe shakes her head. “No, Little One, you aren’t being bad. We’re both in danger. Remember? I just told you, baby, we’re at sea. On a boat. In the ocean. Not on land.”

“So many words, Mistress,” Lucifer replies. In any other situation, she would find him so sweet like this. Right now, this is the worst-case scenario.

“Lucifer,” she stresses his name, letting Dom voice color her tone, “We need to find a way out of here.”

Wanting to please his Mistress, but still so hopelessly confused, Lucifer looks around. “The door, Mistress?”

Chloe grunts and looks around herself, then looks back at the steel door with the darkened window in it. She bites her lip and sniffles, well he isn’t wrong. It’s the only way out.

“Fuck,” she curses and shakes her head. Her legs are starting to hurt. “Let’s sit back down, Little One.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he’s so confused. Is he being punished? What are they doing? Where are they?

Once they have maneuvered themselves back into a sitting position, Chloe begins to hum as she does her best to plan with a splitting headache and cold body, trying to soothe Lucifer that’s started quietly crying and asking if she’s mad at him and can he please just fix it?

The only way out is through the door. So through the door they’ll go.

62 Hours Ago:

Lucifer bolts upright in his bed with a scream.

Panting, he looks around his room in panic, watching for the nonexistent threat. As his mind catches up to awareness he slumps back into the bed, plopping on his pillows with a groan. 

He was past the ridiculous nightmares. He’s the Devil for Dad’s sake. Repeatedly dreaming of the day of his fall in ludicrous. It changes nothing, and there’s nothing to add to the events courtesy of Morpheus. 

He hasn’t dreamt of that day in at least millennia, so why has he started now? 

He rubs his eyes and looks at his clock on the nightstand. It’s earlier than he usually rises, but maybe he could surprise the Detective with breakfast? 

He feels his face relax as he thinks about his Dom Detective. Her soft hands holding him to her last night as he cried like a ninny, smelling of jasmine blossoms and vanilla. He hasn’t felt that safe or protected in…well, possibly in all his life. 

She looked at him for a moment then that took his breath away. As if she were about to tell him the secrets of the universe that he didn’t already know, as if she might have found them in their moment.

Moment.

They had a moment.

He scowls suddenly, as he comes back to himself.

No. They didn’t have a moment. If anything she was looking at him in disgust and his stupid hindbrain is making a mountain out of a molehill.

The Detective didn’t want him. 

And he didn’t want the Detective. 

And these fucking dreams of the day before his fall mean nothing.

And he is perfectly fine.

Okay?

Okay.

Good.

Nothing else to be said to himself. 

Right?

Right.

Now.

Would she want doughnuts or tacos?

59 Hours Ago:

Not a lot of people ask Dan for his opinion on the relationship between Chloe and the man who likes to call himself the Devil.

He’s actually not upset about that. He would much prefer to stay the literal fuck out of anything to do with Lucifer in any capacity, even opinions.

Some people would construe this as feeling somehow jealous of the man, but they would be wrong. The truth is Dan isn’t jealous of Lucifer in the slightest. He can just look at the pathetic ass and tell he’s probably the loneliest person in existence. In fact, he’s pretty sure, anyone with half a brain could figure that out because why else would someone call themselves the Devil, become a bottomless pit of money and hedonism, and then choose to work homicide cases as a way to fill their boredom?

Doesn’t make sense unless that person is either legit bonkers, or so starved of real human connection they’ll take the first thing that presents itself.

Granted.

Chloe is good company, and she does have a way to make you feel appreciated unlike many other people Dan knows – but still. Come on.

Furthermore, if anyone is jealous of anyone, it’s Lucifer of Dan. Why you might ask the demoted Detective?

Obviously, because he was the one with the actual relationship with Chloe that Lucifer is most obviously too scared to even entertain pursuing. A fact he does take pleasure in – the knowing that while Lucifer may have the looks, the accent, the charm, the money, the fucking giant height, and those damnably high cheekbones with the bright and innocent yet mischievous eyes, and the fucking sharp ass jawline, and – you know what – everyone gets it.

Point is here! 

The Devil may be hot, and high on his on own shit, and others may be buying it – but Dan wasn’t fooled.

Not in the least. That man had problems in spades. 

No – spades aren’t large enough.

Problems enough to fill whole galaxies, and star systems, and black holes, and maybe even a planet or two.

Come to think of it, the more Dan thinks about it, the more he realizes how ridiculous it is for anyone to think he could ever be jealous of such a… 

“You know,” a rather lazy, irritating voice in the form of a roommate of his ex wife he may or may not be slightly afraid of, “if you glare any harder Decker and Lucifer’s direction, I think you might light them on fire.”

Dan closes his eyes and breathes out a deep sigh.

Maze continues, voice maintaining a droll tone, “Could be interesting to see though. Might as well keep trying and make my morning.”

“I don’t understand why you’re following me around today?” he grumbles and straightens the papers on his desk.

The demoness shrugs and shoots him a smirk, “Supposed to be learning how to solve things without using violence or something. Decker’s idea she clued me in on this morning. At least that’s the story we’re going with right now. Like I don’t know why I’m actually here,” She snorts, and then smirks. “But what better way to observe the beauty of inaction, than watching you mentally count the ways you want to skin someone alive but keep telling yourself you don’t. It’s so very amusing for me.”

“I am not - …”

Maze rolls her eyes puts her feet up on his desk, easy as you please. 

“Fine,” he bites out. “Maybe I…might be a little annoyed that my ex wife is following around a man who calls himself the Devil. Maybe. But I don’t understand why anyone thinks that’s somehow wrong of me to feel that way.”

“Well the first way it’s wrong,” she starts, contemplatively, pulling out a knife from her pocket and twirling it, “is she isn’t following around anyone. It’s the opposite. He’s following her around.”

And okay, Dan had to give her that point. Especially when glancing over at the two of them seemingly bickering over a case file and Lucifer finally letting her take it from him with a very subtle bow of his head and trailing along behind her to the coffee station. Almost like…he shakes his head.

Nope, not going there.

“Second of all,” Maze continues, “let’s address once again how she is your ex wife. And how she hadn’t boned you or anyone in…hmm…I’d estimate at least 2 years when you officially separated.”

“How the-…”

She smirks coldly. “I can smell it. And you know what else I can smell?” she asks as she leans forward, setting Dan’s instincts on edge and making him fight to continue to meet her eyes. “Same isn’t true for you.”

Dan’s eyes widened in dawning horror and Maze’s smirk only grew. “You couldn’t possibly - …”

Maze busts out laughing. She couldn’t hold it in any longer. This was just too good. “You’re right,” she gasps out between hearty guffaws. “I didn’t, but you just told me.”

Dan’s eyes are saucers and his stomach bottoms out. “You-you can’t tell her, please!”

Settling down, Maze sneers at the Switch. “Why would I do that? It’d hurt her feelings, and I’m already ass high in those with her about other stuff. Nah. I’ll keep it to myself.” 

Dan breathes in relief. 

“But…” she continues, smirking. “This does mean you owe me.”

Irritated, Dan scoffs, “I thought favors were Lucifer’s thing.”

“Oh, honey, this isn’t a favor. This is leverage,” she smiles, faux sweetly. 

“What’s leverage?” Lucifer asks as he comes to stand by the desk, holding a coffee cup and looking in the direction of the Detective who is standing with the Lieutenant. “I do hope you aren’t traumatizing the poor Douche, Mazikeen. It’s only been an hour.”

Maze smiles over at Lucifer and shoots Dan a look. “Nothing to worry about. Dan and I are going to be pals, aren’t we?”

Lucifer gives Maze a skeptical once over and passes a cursory glance over Dan before shaking his head, exasperated. “I don’t know why I’m acting like I actually care. I came over here because the Detective told me to. We have another body. So get a wriggle on.”

He walks off to put the coffee cup on the Detective’s desk and to grab her coat from her chair while Dan gathers his things and watches curiously.

Maze chuckles, still lounging and watching him watch Lucifer. “You won’t get between that, Switchy,” she tells him, eyes unblinking when he meets her gaze. “I’d suggest you stop before you try.”

Shoving back from the chair, she stands and saunters the direction of the moving unit that’s heading out for the new crime scene.

Dan shivers. 

~C&L~

The newest body they are observing is enough to make even Lucifer’s stomach turn. In fact, he feels himself physically reject the sight before his eyes with an uncharacteristic grimace. 

A man, burned past the point of recognition with ash covering everything the eye could see, adorned with a plastic crown and holding a riding crop in one boney hand and an open Bible in the other – sits on a chair that could be construed as a throne. It was a traditional studded high back with claw foot legs and gold colored fabric. 

Garish. 

Ostentatious. 

Those were the words that come to mind to describe it. But also, entirely untouched with the exception of where the body sat. 

And sitting at this barbecued, Dominant Male’s feet was a female sub. She was not burned to a crisp, but stripped naked and badly beaten. She had whip marks all across her back, with dried blood smeared across them, and bruises that littered the rest of her body. Her head lies against the knee of the Dom, gland side facing out and loud, drawing very obvious attention to it, and a single gunshot wound clear in the back of her head.

To make everything that much more disgusting, they’re on a street corner. Only two blocks away from a high school. 

“Holy. Bananas,” Ella says, horror written all over her face. “I mean…” she shakes her head, eyes wide. “This is…who would do this?”

Lucifer looks towards the detective standing a few feet away, that seems to be reminding herself to remain objective. Despite the atrocities he has seen in his very long existence, and the fact that almost nothing surprises him anymore when it comes to the capacity for cruelty amongst humans, he feels a part inside of him rebel against the notion that someone could be this evil.

Clearing his throat he steps forward a little, “Unfortunately, Miss Lopez, I can name quite a few people. It would take far more than this to truly shock me, but I must admit this is particularly gruesome.”

Ella seems to come back to herself and kneels close to the sub, checking the back of her head over. “Based on the striations around the gunshot, my best guestimate right now is that it was close range. Butt to the back of the head, execution style.”

“Like the Dom of the other murder,” Chloe adds.

Ella glances at her, “Yeah. Exactly. Whip lashes are consistent to the whip in the other victims’ hand, which corroborates the blood on it. No discerning smell, other than the reg human putrefaction and the obvi burn flesh smell. But nothing gas-y, so I can’t say I have an exact lead to work with on that here. However, the poor Dom was very clearly placed here after death.” She gently moves the head and gasps, “Aye, Dios mio!”

Lucifer frowns. “I’m fairly certain my father doesn’t-…”

“No,” she says, “the wound. The bullet wound. It goes through her head and through the knee of this Dom.” 

Chloe feels her stomach roll. “So she would definitely have had to be killed here. Not placed here afterwards like…well like before or like the Dom.”

Ella looks over at Chloe, eyes wide, “Yeah. But judging by the rest of…” she gestures to the Dom, “…she was forced to kneel at this Dom’s feet…with him having already been burned and positioned this way, and then…” she makes a gun with her hands a little shakily and mimes someone shooting the woman through her skull.

Lucifer turns away, the implications making his eyes heat in anger. He feels Chloe take a step his way and his body lean her direction. 

“And by the status of both the bruising and the dried blood,” the Switch continues, “I’d place the sub’s death to be about four hours ago. But based on the status of the remains of the Dom, I’m going to need to give you TOD back at the lab.”

“Well if it’s following a pattern, it shouldn’t have been that much earlier than the sub. They had to have been paired,” Chloe replies.

Lucifer shakes his head, having grabbed the Bible out of the Dom’s hand with a spare pair. “There’s no mark on her neck, Detective.”

Ella shoots up from the ground and darts over to Lucifer, ripping the book out of his hands. “¿Estás loco?! This is evidence!”

“Lucifer,” Chloe scolds who hands the book over to the forensic scientist with a huff.

“It will interest you to note what our killer highlighted,” he sniffs and crosses his arms.

Chloe shoots the sub a look and walks over to where Ella is reading what it was opened to. “I can’t read this,” she grouses at the sub who roles his eyes and speaks in perfectly accented Czechian.

“1 Korintskym 3:13,‘dílo každého vyjde najevo. Ukáže je onen den, neboť se zjeví v ohni; a oheň vyzkouší, jaké je dílo každého člověka.’”

Ella coughs and looks at the Dom Detective. Chloe rolls her eyes. “And for those of us who don’t know what the hell that means?”

Lucifer smirks and rolls his shoulders. “1 Corinthians 3:13, ‘And their work will be shown for what it is, because the day will bring it to light. It will be revealed by fire and the fire will test the quality of each person’s work.’ It’s Czechian. Sound familiar?”

“I hate seeing the Bible used as justification for someone’s vileness,” Ella laments and walks back over to the bodies.

Lucifer scoffs. “Welcome to the world, as they say, Miss Lopez. Turn on a television lately? If they aren’t blaming their misdeeds on me, they’re claiming to do them in the name of my father.” 

Chloe looks at Lucifer contemplatively. “Yesterday we interviewed someone using Czech words for blood as names for bartenders in their club. Now we have a murder with a Czechian Bible opened to a passage discussing trials by fire and a burned body. That’s not a coincidence.”

They all turn towards Maze’s direction at her low whistle, when she saunters over behind Dan.

“Wow,” Maze says with raised eyebrows, taking in the scene. “If I knew this side was so interesting, I wouldn’t have been on your case about helping with homicides, Lucifer.”

“Believe me,” he grumbles, “not every case is this…flagrantly detailed.” 

Chloe sighs and takes another walk around the bodies, nodding her head at Dan to say what he needs to.

Crossing his arms, he tries to look everywhere but directly at the bodies. “Just spoke to the teenagers who found the bodies. They’re pretty shaken up about it.”

Maze snorts. “Well, gee, Dan. Is it because they found a grisly murder?”

Chloe closes her eyes and shakes her head. “Did they give you anything?”

Dan shakes his head, still not meeting anyone’s eyes. “They were walking to school. Called the cops from the ground two blocks away, cause they were afraid the killer might still be around. They’re obviously just scared.”

“Of course,” Chloe nods, squaring her shoulders. “Ella, we need the TOD and identity of the Dom and the sub ASAP; once we have that, we need to comb through their socials and see if they have at any point traveled to a nightclub called The Bullet and posted about it. Dan, tell tech we want to widen the perimeter from four blocks to twenty for scouring all of the cams. These bodies had to get here somehow. Let’s find out how it was. Maze…” she pauses, looking the smug demoness over who is looking the bodies over with undisguised interest.

“Yes, I know. Follow Dan around,” she sniffs.

Chloe shakes her head. “Actually, I was wondering if maybe you’d like to help Lucifer and me out by getting your ear to the ground and helping us find out anything we can on these Czechian owners of the Bullet.”

Maze pretends to think it over. “Sure. Why not? Case seems interesting. And I have to meet the psycho who did this,” she gestures towards the bodies.

Chloe nods and looks over at Lucifer, who had gone quiet. He was observing the goings on around him, breathing deeply and quite obviously trying not to look at the sub on display any longer than he has to. She feels her stomach bottom out and heaves a big sigh. 

“Great. Let’s get to it.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HEY EVERYONE!!!
> 
> Omg I am getting these out faster than I think I can :D It's make me so happy!
> 
> Thank you as always for all of your support! It means the world to me. I will get back around to answering your comments as I have time in between. I promise!
> 
> Enjoy!

56 Hours Ago:

Chloe knows she’s staring at Lucifer. 

No one has to point out to her that she needs to stop it she knows she does. She just can’t look away from him and the scarf tied around his neck. It’s…wrong…being there, somehow. 

It doesn’t fit. 

It isn’t right. 

It isn’t…Lucifer.

Lucifer doesn’t hide himself, for any reason.

She knows why it’s there. She also knows why he doesn’t want anyone else to know why it’s there. She just…ugh…she just wishes he would talk to her about it. 

When he walked into the precinct that morning, a good hour earlier than normal, wielding a box of chocolate covered cream filled doughnuts and a bag of lemon bars, she had to stop herself from pointing out the accessory. 

He wouldn’t be wearing it if it weren’t for what happened the previous night and the obvious bruises it must have left, and he wouldn’t have shown up today if he wanted to wallow in the events. 

It was very clearly the wrong time for her to force the issue.

Yet, her inner Dom voice and cop training just wouldn’t shut up about it.

To make matters worse, she felt guilty as all hell staring at him from across the room. She didn’t feel like she had the right. It was her possessive instincts driving her to do it, she knew; and she isn’t in a position to behave that way.

Not to mention, she had lied to him – right to his face in his most vulnerable moment. And the guilt was nearly eating her alive. She hadn’t slept a single wink. She had been too busy thinking of his trusting, Bambi eyes looking up to her full of…something she was too afraid to name.

Granted, telling him the truth in that particular moment would have been also guaranteed disastrous; but it doesn’t change the fact that she lied to him, or that she’s roped Maze into the lie. 

Maze, who keeps sending her faces that clearly say, “Could you be anymore of a coward?”

She closes her eyes sags back against her chair, letting out a small groan and feeling her body swivel back and forth a bit. The very picture of defeat.

“Detective?” Lucifer asks curiously, having heard her sigh and seen her overly dramatic display. 

He wanders over to her and away from the sub rookie he was just talking to about their pups at home. She was such a proud mama, and it made him feel an ache in his gut he couldn’t name. He may not much care for children in general, but he did enjoy seeing parents who obviously loved and adored their children. It was one of the things he admired in his Dom Detective. Despite children being a waste of time, she still made her daughter a priority. It was…noble.

Chloe curses herself and opens one eye to see his concerned face coming closer.

Fuck.

“Are you alright?” he asks and props his hip against the side of her desk. 

She looks up at him and nods once, continuing to stare. 

He doesn’t have a right to be as beautiful as he is, she wishes she could let everyone know. It’s unfair. 

Pressed black suit. 

Eggplant silk shirt.

Subtle, woodsy cologne scent that only amplifies his natural scent of manly musk, vanilla, and rose.

It was intoxicating to all of her instincts and makes her head feel a little cloudy, a little spacey.

“Detective?” Lucifer asks a little more concerned. “Are you okay? Did you need anything?”

Chloe snaps back to herself.

“No!” she answers in a firmer voice than she meant to, making Lucifer jerk back. His eyes betray his immediately shuttered face, as he stands up and puts distance between them. “I mean no, I don’t need anything. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to -…”

“Use that voice?” he asks cautiously, looking away from her nervously before meeting her eyes again. She mentally curses again. She’s spooked him. “It’s fine, Detective. I understand this morning has been trying on your patience and my…escapades last night probably didn’t assist in manners that inspire sleep.”

“Lucifer,” she sighs, “last night wasn’t your fault.”

“Wasn’t it?” he asks airily and gracefully slides into the chair across from her. “I’d rather we discuss something else though, if you don’t mind?”

“Of course,” she nods. “I should be getting the warrant back soon for the tapes from The Bullet.”

Lucifer nods at her, before smirking. “So we will get the pleasure of rubbing it in that nasty little wench’s face. Good.”

“Actually,” she says and leans forward a little bit. “I was thinking we could send Dan and Maze to go do that.”

“Why on earth would you have them do it?” he asks, flabbergasted. “Detective,” he says imploringly, “we always do that satisfying task together and this particular time would be even more satisfying! We know they’re hiding something! This should be, as your spawn would say, ‘a slam dunk!’”

“Precisely,” she replies, giving a soft smile. “This will be easy enough for them to do so we can focus on stuff that requires more of our attention. Nothing interesting would happen anyways, it would just be the official release of the tapes.”

“Ah,” he says with a considering tone, mulling it over. “I do suppose there are other things we could be investing our intelligence in, since this one will be easy enough that even the Douche could handle it.”

Chloe chuckles. There he is. That’s the man she knows.

“And I suppose, if any trouble did crop up, he wouldn’t need to worry his douchey little head as Maze could dispose of it for him. Cause we both know he of all people wouldn’t know what to do with the mob or something equally ghastly,” he chuckles to himself. Then barks another louder laugh, as another though passes through his mind. “Can you even imagine? Daniel? Investigating the Chechen mob alone? Bloody hell, that’s hilarious!”

Chloe shakes her head. “Right. The other reason is they are both Switches. So maybe the employees would feel more comfortable to be speaking to their own designation?”

He pulls a face at that and sniffs. “Maze is not a Switch,” he huffs. “She is a demon from the order of the Lillum who are the direct line descendants of the first woman Lilith.” He adjusts himself in his seat with an agitated air about him while Chloe watches with interest. 

“They have no designations, whatsoever,” he grouses. “I was a fairly passive ruler, all things considered. I didn’t want to be there in the first place, so why would I be a tyrant of something I couldn’t give a fig about? I didn’t typically tell my underlings how to do their dastardly jobs or get too heavily involved in the politics of the higher demons and their constant grabby fingers at my throne – that if it were possible I’d have gladly given any of them or diddle around with the Endless past what was strictly necessary…but in that ruling, I was stringent.” He gives her a significant look to emphasize his point. 

“Any demons created by myself or any others after my taking of the throne would be without a mark of designations,” he continues, “as I felt it should be for everyone on Earth, in Heaven and in the far reaching point of the universe. But also because it made their job of persecution of the sinners easier by not feeling any pull to their baser instincts.”

Chloe blinks. Okay…that was fairly coherent despite it being completely wacko. “Okay, hold on,” she breathes out, “ignoring how insane that sounds, that would mean you do.”

Furrowed brows, he huffs, “Do what?”

“Do feel the pull.”

Lucifer snaps his mouth closed and grinds his teeth, eyes boring holes into the Detective’s forehead from the weight of his stare. Chloe swallows and bites her tongue. That was so incredibly stupid of her to say, she can’t even begin to list all the ways.

“Seeing as I am unfortunately saddled with this-this thing,” he all but growls, “on my neck, yes. There was a time very, very long ago – longer ago than your human brain can fathom – that I too felt the pulls of my baser instincts as a sub.” He spits the last word. “But that hasn’t been for eons worth of time. Since before time was a concept created by humans in the first place. I have no desires that align with that of subs to be prostrate at the feet of a Dom, telling me who I am to be for them today. I’ve done that already, and it won’t happen again.”

Chloe blinks, fighting back all of the intense feelings warring inside her. That should settle any discussion she was having with herself earlier. Lucifer is off limits. Coming right from his own damned mouth. 

So why does the tirade make her…sad for him instead?

“Who are the Endless?” she asks curiously instead. Wanting to change the subject before she touches any further on the subject she wants to push but knows she shouldn’t.

“Primordial beings that predate the existence of the universe. As old as my parents, but in some ways far more dangerous,” he snorts. “If that’s even possible.” Thinking on it, he offers, “But Delirium can be fun sometimes, I suppose. In small doses. And Morpheus is a cad. No one will be able to tell me different. Absolute wanker.”

Right. Sure. Okay. Chloe thinks. Perfectly normal response.

Chloe chuckles slightly, “Well back to the original point, Maze isn’t a sub and she isn’t a Dom. Therefore – in the real world – she’s a Switch. But I must admit, you have this whole metaphor really well planned out, because I doubt you just made all of that up right now.”

Lucifer rolls his eyes. “Because I didn’t make it up. It’s the truth.” He groans to himself. “You know, one day you’re going to believe me; and you’ll be so shocked you’ll probably run away to Italy for a month or something.”

She does laugh at that and shakes her head. “Sure I would. Because running away from things is how I handle everything already. Very in character of me.”

Lucifer grins, “Point to you, Detective. Maybe we’d just finally have an intelligent conversation for once, where you can finally process who I am? You’d probably have a million questions, and I’d get the pleasure of turning your whole worldview upside down.”

Playing along, she smirks back, “Or maybe I would finally be able to back up my theory of how overly inflated your ego is with cold hard facts.”

Lucifer giggles, “Oh, so many future possibilities. What would we do with them all?”

Chloe’s smirk settles a little bit more into a soft smile. So maybe her partner was off limits, but she can still enjoy their banter. Right?

“D-Detective Decker?” a timid voice calls from the side, breaking the reverie shared between the two.

Lucifer growls lowly, he was beginning to enjoy himself and then someone has the nerve to – oh, well hello again. “Krev? What are you doing here?”

David Hernandez’s lip wobbles slightly, as his puffy, bloodshot eyes leak what seem to be more tears down his bare face than he’d already cried. He rubs at them, drawing the Detective and Lucifer’s gaze to the bruises up and down his arms and how everything about him seems rumpled and unkempt. Lucifer stands immediately and comes forward to take the man by the shoulders, which make Chloe then stare at her partner. That’s definitely not a usual move from him to show such compassion. 

She filed it away to examine later.

“What happened, dear?” Lucifer asks softly, turning the man’s face upwards.

He coughs a little, and sniffles, rubbing the snot away from his nose. “I need to report a murder.”

Chloe gasps.

~C&L~

“So,” Maze drawls and hangs over the side of the railing looking below. “You came.”

Amenadiel huffs and mirrors her position, watching as Chloe Decker and his annoying little brother gather the sniveling human and lead him off to one of the interrogation rooms. “You didn’t exactly give me a choice. What do you need?”

Maze smirks and stands a little straighter. “I think you know why I called you here.”

The fallen angel glares over at her. “I’m beginning to have an idea,” he nods towards the leaving twosome and their wailing additional human, “and I can tell you if it’s what I think it’s about I’m not helping you.”

The demoness scowls, “Why not?”

“Because, Mazikeen,” Amenadiel says in a firm tone, “what you are wanting to do will only end in disaster.”

She scoffs, and flips her hair over her shoulder. “Hardly. It gets them both what they want and cuts out the will they/won’t they drama. I thought you wanted to help your brother. Getting him laid how he needs to be on the reg will only make him more agreeable in other ways. If anything, this is win-win-win.”

“Mother would forbid it and so would Father if he were more involved,” he growls. “What you are suggesting goes against everything in the known universe.”

“Who gives a fuck about what your parents say!” Maze argues. “Lucifer wants this -…”

Amenadiel leans into her space, and urgently whispers, “Lucifer has NEVER been good at deciding what he wants. And now you are saying we should help him Pair with a human? It’ll never happen, Maze! Furthermore, he is so far in denial of even thinking to want it, the very notion of pushing him that way could result in him retaliating. He doesn’t do well with other people deciding things for him.”

“It’s not deciding for him, when he’s already decided himself,” she counters, shoving back into the angel’s personal space. “Maybe you haven’t noticed yet, but Pre-Pairing behavior has already started. And he’s so emotionally blind to himself, he hasn’t even figured that out! He thinks he can shove his instincts away.”

“The Devil cannot be Paired to a human. We are angels, Maze,” he crosses his arms. “We were designed to be Paired only to Father and Mother.”

“And obviously, you were Paired to your Mommy,” she sneers.

Amenadiel pulls his lips back, showing his teeth in aggravation, not wanting to raise himself to the bait. “You know that he was the only angel Paired to Father.”

“Archangel,” she corrects. “He may be fallen, but he’s an Archangel. Which means no matter how in grace or not you may be, he’ll always be better and more powerful than you.”

Amenadiel glares at her and turns away. He takes a few deep breaths and continues in a more controlled tone, “It’s impossible, Maze. No matter how much I want my little brother to be happy – and yes, believe it or not, I actually do – she is a human. He is the Devil. She will grow old and die. He won’t. No one even knows what it would mean if a human were to be the Dom of someone with his…capabilities. Or whether a human even could stand a Pairing to someone like that.”

Maze pulls a face, “What is that supposed to mean?”

Amenadiel gives the demoness a grave look. “Chloe becoming a Dom to Lucifer would mean she would also – by extension – have the reigns of control of his dormant Demiurgos Lightbringer abilities. The powers that helped him in the creation of the universe with Father. That could – well, it could burn the Detective alive.”

That shocked Maze into silence. She hadn’t thought of that. “I thought he no longer had those powers. I thought he only was allowed to retain his ability of fire manipulation and small scale matter transmutation after his Fall.”

“That’s what he was led to believe,” Amenadiel answers. “Why do you think I was keen to get him back to Hell every time, Maze?”

She snorts, “Because you’re a party pooper.”

He rolls his eyes, and huffs. “Because, if he were put in the right set of stressful circumstances that gave just the right catalyst…he could wipe out the universe.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So now the real meat and potatoes of the story kicks in. 
> 
> You guys, I just wanted to say, you all are the fucking best!!!! You diligently leave the most awesome, the most heartening, the most inspiring comments on the planet and I am thankful for each and every one of you. 
> 
> <3 <3

56 Hours Ago…Cont:

“Start at the beginning,” Chloe tells the softly sobbing man gently as her sub partner guides him to a seat and the doors click shut behind them.

David Hernandez sniffle coughs and nods at Lucifer in thanks, before taking a deep breath, “I heard it.”

“Heard what?” Lucifer asks and crosses his arms, shooting the Dom Detective a concerned look.

“The murder that was on the news this morning,” he replies and wipes his nose with his jacket sleeve. “But you reported only finding two people. There were four.”

Alarmed, Chloe steps forward urgently, “How do you know that? What did you hear?”

“I was leaving to go home for the night,” he informs the both of them, watching him like hawk. “Žíla – Tiffany,” he corrects himself, “kept me later than I should have been there counting stock in the back, not out front making any tips or anything. I was really upset about it, but I thought it might be pay back for talking to you guys earlier in the day.” He sighs and pulls his sleeves over his hands, not meeting anyone’s eyes.

Lucifer scowls. How terribly unprofessional of that Tiffany.

“I need this job to support my kid,” he continues and wipes at his now exhausted looking eyes, “so I never say anything when I feel like I’m being treated unfair. But last night…I don’t know, I could just feel something was wrong.”

Pensive, the Detective supports a hip on the table and eyes the distraught man intently. “Yesterday, you made it seem like they were always pretty wonderful to you.”

David scoffs derisively, “My boss was sitting literally a table away, within earshot. You think I’m going to tell the truth about it then?”

Lucifer shakes his head. “Do go on,” he urges and rests against the table himself on the opposite of the Dom Detective. 

“Like I said. Something felt weird. So I really just wanted to leave. And then I heard her on the phone arguing in what must have Czech,” he shrugs almost listlessly. “I don’t know. I don’t speak the language. So I can’t tell you what was said. All I know was she sounded very…angry. And like the person on the phone wasn’t listening to her.”

“Has she ever told you that she is from the Czech Republic?” Chloe asks him.

“No,” he shakes his head. “She rarely talks to me at all. I was telling the truth when I said I had never met the owners. I don’t know what they look like or what their names are. I don’t know if they actually are from the Czech Republic or if the whole thing is some convoluted, bizarro scam.” He huffs and wipes his face again, exasperated. “Tiffany hired me, and I always wondered why considering I’m not exactly their type.”

“Type?” Lucifer cuts in with a raised brow.

“White. Pretty. Weirdly obsessive about how Switches are the only viable designation as they answer to no one,” he answers. “Don’t get me wrong, I’ve met many prejudice people in my life. But it always felt different, more intense than a passing distaste, you know?”

Dom and sub both shot each other a look before nodding. So far, everything seems to be tracking for what they have been piecing together.

He sighs out. “She was arguing on the phone with someone and then these four people walked in with Cévy – I don’t know his real name, sorry. He barely speaks English, from what I’ve been told. And they asked Tiffany what they were getting to see. I can only assume they were told they won something, I don’t know,” he rushes out, distressed, tears welling up again. 

Lucifer shushes him and takes out his pocket square, passing it over gently. 

“She-she hung up the phone, and she smiled at them,” he stutters. “I’ve literally never seen her smile at anyone before. That was unsettling as it was, but I should have…I should have said something,” he cries. “I was hiding behind the paper goods rack, and I was supposed to be in the other room. They didn’t know I was watching. But she told them they had been chosen for a higher purpose, and that they would be so happy to fit into the ‘grand design.’”

“Can you tell me what the others looked like that were with your…associates?” Chloe asks him.

David thought about it for a second. “One of the subs was blonde, the other was a red head…I think. It was dark,” he looks down. “They all looked white, but I’m a lighter skinned Hispanic man, so anything is possible.” He bit his lip. “I don’t know, guys,” he shakes his head. “Both the subs in the group were women, the Doms were men. Maybe mid thirties. Could be late twenties. Dressed in scene gear, full leather. That’s the best I have.”

Chloe nods her head encouragingly. “That’s good. It fits the description of what we found. So we can corroborate that the victims we found today were at The Bullet.”

“It doesn’t make them be more alive,” David says sadly. “The others are probably dead too. I didn’t help anyone, really.”

Lucifer grimaces. “You need not feel guilt for this, dear David,” he tells him softly. “You didn’t do anything wrong. If you had intervened in that moment, you would have likely been victim number five and we would have no leads to go off of.”

Chloe nods, “You’re helping now. When it counts the most. We will get them justice, I promise. Was there anything else you saw?”

He shook his head. “No. After that, I could tell the two subs were starting to feel a little weirded out, but Cévy guided them all to the back alley with Tiffany following behind with the Doms…and I heard the-the struggle. There was yelling and then there was nothing. I think they were murdered there, but I don’t know!” He sniffles. “I ran. I ran out of there and out through the side door as fast as I could.”

“Mr. Hernandez, you just confirmed there was struggle. That might be enough to get an arrest warrant. But it is definitely enough for us to close the place down and comb through it and find some hard evidence,” Chloe tells him seriously. “Maybe this doesn’t help them come back to life, but it might prevent it happening again. And it does help us find who did it to make sure they’re brought to justice.”

Lucifer shoots Chloe a look who returns it with a grim smile. He turns back to the frightened Switch and leans away from the table to come stand closer to him. “You were very brave coming here today to tell us this.”

David shakes his head. “I’m not brave. I didn’t do anything to help when it mattered the most. And I can’t go back there now,” he whimpers and the tears start flowing again. “But I need the money! And I feel selfish even saying that with people dead.”

Lucifer stood straight and gave David his most charming smile. “You needn’t worry your little head about that. You’re hired at Lux. You start tomorrow at 2. Same schedule you had before, since it helps you. You can assist Patrick in preparing for gatherings, ordering alcohol, bartending for the early afternoon crowd.”

David finally meets Lucifer’s eyes, slack jawed and clearly overwhelmed. “T-Thank you, Mr. Morningstar. This is…this is…”

Chloe sends Lucifer a proud smile who shrugs in return. “Nonsense. No need for thanks. Patrick needed help anyways with Maze spending less and less time doing what she was supposed to be doing so really this is helping me. Your first task is assisting in a farewell party my Mother needs arranged.” He smirks to himself. “Make it as unbearably human as possible. Streamers. Balloons. Whiz poppers. The whole experience.” He chuckles. “And when you think it’s obnoxious enough, make it more so. Pin the tail on the blasted donkey and other such ridiculous human games. Oh, this will be so pleasurable to watch her squirm through, I am positively vibrating in excitement!”

Chloe smirks at her sub partner and shakes her head. “Thank you, Mr. Hernandez. You’re free to go now. Try to get some rest. You just did a good thing.”

“Yes!” Lucifer interjects encouragingly. “And got a better job out of it to boot. Leave the punishing of these fiendish villains to yours truly. We promise to avenge these souls and get them justice.”  
David shoots them a small smile through his tears. “Thank you. I’m just-I’m just gonna go now.”

The partners nodded and watched him scuffle out through the double doors, waiting for it snick behind him before turning to each other simultaneously.

“Well this means we have…” Chloe starts.

“…motive, opportunity, and confirmed time stamp of events.” Lucifer grins, happy.

Chloe grins back, “Which means we were basically just handed the case over signed, sealed and delivered.”

“All we need is a confession,” Lucifer chuckles. “And I’m sure with a little bit me, mixed with a little bit of you, this case will be closed by six this evening!”

“Well we do still need to do a thorough sweep of The Bullet to find the signs of struggle David mentioned and verify his story,” she says crossing her arms thoughtfully. “But if we tell Ella to get her stuff together before we head into the Lieutenant to have her sign off on us applying for the warrant, we should be able to cut down time.”

Lucifer nods sagely, “Wise as always, Detective. Your big, beautiful brain never ceases to astound me.” 

Chloe blushes and meets Lucifer’s eyes, feeling her earlier smile fade slowly into something more hesitant. She bites her lip just as she sees Lucifer come into the awareness of the compliment he just offhandedly gave her. He clears his throat, and ducks his head.

The Dom Detective is once again met with the view of the damned scarf, reminding her of what happened mere hours ago.

Reminding her of her lies.

Her stomach rolls and the moment stretches into two before she finally sucked in a deep breath and said in a rush, “When this is over, I need to talk to you.”

The sub looks up sharply, startled. “Detective?”

“It-It’s nothing case related. It’s personal,” she says, voice panicky and unsure. “And I keep-I keep not saying what I need to. I’ve been in this Mexican stand off with Maze about it all damn day. So…” she takes in another breath, “once we arrest these guys, set some time aside for me.” She breathes out, relieved to have it out there, then adds in a small voice when he doesn’t immediately agree, “Please?”

Lucifer snaps out of his stupor. Feeling his hindbrain kick into overdrive immediately as his head starts nodding quickly of its own accord. “Anything,” he breathes out, voice soft and husky. When she snaps her eyes to his, having been caught off guard by his near desperate sub like sound, he coughs. His cheeks heat in embarrassment, “I mean, yes of course.”

Good job, he scolds himself. Just drop to your knees and ask her pat your head, you ridiculous little piece of…he stops his inner tirade. Frustrated with himself. He’s torn between begging to know what she wants to discuss with him so he doesn’t let himself get any further worked up by the possibilities, and presenting himself before her in a mad final attempt to convince her he’s ready. 

For what? Well, he doesn’t even know. He has no interest in anything more than sex but…but… 

Lucifer looks away briefly before steeling himself and opens an arm for her to put hers through. “Detective? It looks like we have solved our case.”

Chloe smirks back at his gentlemanly display and loops her arm through his. Feeling on top of the world in that moment. “Let’s go get these sons of bitches.”

Lucifer barks a loud laugh. “Oh, Detective, the mouth on you!”

~C&L~

50 Hours Ago:

…Their joy had been short lived.

While applying for the arrest warrant five hours ago, a radio call came in of a fire down on the same block as The Bullet. Lucifer and Chloe had rushed out of the building and into her squad car, hightailing it to the nightclub and arriving just in time to see the last vestiges of the fire being put out by the LAFD.

Lucifer had actually been speechless standing beside her as they watched, and Chloe had been too shocked to even register this.

Not long after, everything had devolved into absolute chaos. 

More cruisers pulling in at break neck speeds. Dan and Maze rushing out of another separate car, warrants in hand. The FBI’s bomb squad fighting with the Lieutenant, Ella and her crew for first rights inside. News stations setting up behind the haphazard barricade that been erected from one blink to the next.

Madness. Noise. Blurring together for hours. 

And through it all, Chloe and Lucifer remained standing beside one another. Silent as mice. Soaking in the melee as if separate from it, not quite ready to absorb the implications of the very real possibility that all of their evidence was lost.

The Bullet Nightclub was no more. 

Everything. 

From the back of the place to the front. 

From the stage to the double entry doors.

Just covered in black ash. Like someone had lit a controlled bomb in the middle of the place that made enough of a disaster zone that it didn’t completely blow up the fucking building and therefore take out a good section of Lankershim Boulevard with it, but destroyed virtually everything that had been left behind.

All metal was covered in soot and scorch marks. All couches virtually disintegrated, and only parts and pieces left. The place reeked of gasoline. It was obviously done quickly. And yet, precisely.

The person had clearly done this type of clean up before.

Chloe stands in the center of the chaos with her arms crossed and a mask over her face, watching as Ella and her team works to find anything they possibly can in the mess. 

She feels hollowed out and exhausted. 

She feels angry. 

She feels…determined to fix this.

She shakes her head as her partner comes up to her. Beautiful face also covered by a ventilation mask, clothes covered in soot and other such filth. He ducks his head in a quiet show of deference that she feels her body unconsciously sway towards, as he stands beside her and tilts his head in the direction of the door. She meets his brown, bottomless eyes hiding behind the glass of the ventilation mask and nods, following him.

Once outside, they strip the masks off and park it on a bench that had been set up by some of the field guys, sitting in continued silence for long moments. 

Lucifer shifts uncomfortably, constantly looking towards his Dom Detective as if to wait for her guidance on what his response should be. He doesn’t know what to say to make it better, but everything inside him is saying that he needs to for her.

He tries to tell his hindbrain to fucking shut its damn mouth; but finds himself sinking down in on himself, in an unconscious show of submission to her anyway – not even realizing that’s what he’s doing. His body, acting of its own accord, also reaches up and brushes his gland underneath his neck scarf as he juts his chin out and to the side. 

In the back of his mind, he feels his inner sub whine. His Dom Detective is sad and he can’t fix it. He’s always so useless. 

Chloe finally breaks the quiet with a huffed, and slightly hysterical laugh. 

Shooting her an odd look, the sub shifts in his seat to turn his eyes more toward her face without breaking his sunken position that was slowly becoming a false kneeling sort of slouch. “What’s so funny?” he asks softly, confused.

Chloe turns her head to her partner, and feels the laugh seep back out from between her lips. “Just…everything,” she says and laughs again. “I mean, don’t you just find this hilarious?”

“Detective?” Wary, Lucifer draws back, shoulders coming further inward. He didn’t like her tone; it was making his teeth sit on edge.

She leans back and practically guffaws. “It’s amazing!”

Without any assistance of his hirer functioning’s, the sub slides a bit away, as if he could sense the encroaching danger. He wouldn’t even realize until much later how he had begun to sweat – when he rarely sweats – or how tight his back had become from the crushing anxiety. Internally, all his thoughts outside of the ones focusing on the Dom had turned off.

What was happening to him?

“It’s just simply amazing,” she conintues, not looking at the sub. All traces of humor had left; only a an anger shining out of her eyes as she glared at the building in front of them. “Six people. Maybe more. Dead. And our best chance at tying all the tracks together is-is-is…” she throws up a hand towards the milling workers, coming in and out of the nightclub, “…a cinder.”

Lucifer looks quickly at the building, before dropping his eyes to the ground between them. Feeling his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth. He doesn’t understand why he feels like he can’t move. Why he feels like anything he does wrong could result in…in something happening. And he can’t control this feeling.

It’s like spiraling in a free fall, where you know the ground is close but you don’t quite know how to curl your body to land in the most likely to survive way. What is going on? He whimpers, despite himself and promptly squeezes his eyes shut in humiliation. 

She finally does look down at the sub after hearing his small whimper and feels another hysterical laugh escape, because of course. Her pheromones are out of control and she’s frightened him. “Perfect,” she huffs wetly, and scrubs at her eyes. 

Sucking in a deep breath to keep from sobbing, in front of her entire precinct, the FBI, Maze, and fuck knew who else she counted to ten. She had to get her breathing under control to stop putting out angry Dom pheromones.

“Lucifer?” she says in as controlled a tone as possible. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…well, to scare you.”

Chancing a glance upwards, the sub unconsciously whimpers again when he meets the Dom’s eyes. His pupils were dilated and that alarmed Chloe in a whole new set of ways. Logically, unmated subs were susceptible to second hand Dom rage to a degree. Hell, even mated subs were not usually comfortable around Dom’s going to a rage state.

But her partner seemed more than just surface affected…he seemed, well almost like how the sub who was mated to the enraged Dom would feel.

Oh shit, Chloe thought as Lucifer began shaking his head profusely. Oh shit.

“No, no, no,” the sub insisted, getting further down and moving off the bench, beginning to walk backward and away. “Don’t be sorry, I’m sorry. I-I…” why is he sorry? Why is his head so cloudy?

Chloe was in shock. He couldn’t possibly be reacting to her this way. It was impossible. 

“Don’t be sorry, I’m sorry,” he insisted again, backing further away. Muttering about how useless he was. 

Chloe leans forward, protest dying on her lips with his flinch.

And that flinch made it as though the world stopped for the Dom. She watched as the sub all but ran the other direction, bobbing and weaving in and out of other people. Eyes wide, and lips bitten red with a flush face. She didn’t stop him because the best thing for the both of them was for him to be as far away from her as possible.

She needed to calm her pheromones and he needed to snap out of it.

And IT was a direct result of something totally impossible, but now undeniably true…

Lucifer was Pairing with her.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesus Christ Almighty
> 
> This chapter guys. Holy shit. Almost 8000 words. People write WHOLE FICS for less words. Nonetheless, I love and hate this chapter. Because I put so much information into it and yet I feel like I answered and did nothing at all. 
> 
> Also, we do need to keep in mind that this fic happens near the time Uriel appears but he hasn’t died yet. But they don’t know anything about Chloe’s history yet in being a miracle.
> 
> Btw, just wanted to reiterate I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH! I appreciate your support on so many evels. And your detailed repsonses to what I write brings tears to my eyes that you guys are that invested in what I do here. God, just THANK YOU!!!! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!!! <3

Present:

Chloe has had multiple instances in her life where she has felt completely alone and unaware of what to do.

She has also had multiple points in her life where she has felt totally empowered and in control of everything around her.

She has not, however, ever felt this way; and that way is thoroughly and entirely helpless.

By nature, Chloe Jane Decker is a woman in charge of her shit. She doesn’t accept grief from anyone, or let other people decide for her what is right or what is wrong. She knows her own limits and frequently pushes herself past them. She is determined and successful. She is driven and steady.

Chloe Jane Decker is NOT helpless.

Simply, she is not. She can’t be. She just isn’t wired that way.

The damsel in distress routine has never been who she is at her core, no matter how she feels she has to act around people who understand nothing else. She is the one who is rewiring the lockbox and getting herself the fuck out of trouble. She’s the James Bond, she isn’t the Bond girl.

One of the biggest arguments that she and her mother had had growing up was how she would never become a leading lady in the movies for her “tough guy” stunt she pulls. She’s a female Dom, and there’s already a stigma attached to being this way. So going around and cramming other’s noses in it would only result in trouble for her.

Chloe knows that deep down her mother was actually trying to look out for her. She had grown up in a very different world. One that tried to wipe the very existence of women like her from the possibility of designations. A world that her mother had been taught to feel grateful for being allowed to live in, and not one she had a right to be in.

Chloe still resents her for it. She can’t help it though she tries. She feels as though her mother should have encouraged her like she encourages Trixie who is showing many signs of following in her mother’s steps and presenting as a Dom herself. She hates that she feels like she can’t tell her mother her struggles and not get self-satisfied response of I told you so. She hates that she wants it even now. Even knowing that’s the response she gets.

She’s never claimed to not be full of contradictions.

The point in all of this internal reflection is that Chloe Jane Decker is not a helpless person, and yet today she is. In more ways than one.

Lucifer, her beautiful sub partner, is still whimpering to himself against her back. She can feel him shake and hear his whispered apologies that are mixed with pleas for mercy.

The bench they’re on is ice cold, and it is made no warmer from their sitting on it as they are just as cold – stripped to their underwear and left in the dark.

She has been staring at the door that is bolted shut for she doesn’t know how long now. She gave up trying to figure out how to open it but it’s clearly the only way out. She knows this. She also knows that there is practically no hope in getting it to open. So they will either freeze to death or be murdered in whatever grisly way their captors feel suit them best.

She can’t squeeze his pinkie anymore to provide any comfort. Her hands are practically ice blocks, and for this she mourns the loss. She almost needs the reassurance more than he does. Her tears have long since dried and any else she wishes to cry, she abjectly refuses to. If this is the way she will leave this world, she will not give these monsters the satisfaction of knowing they broke her. She may be beaten, and her circumstances may be bleak, but she will not let them see her fall anymore apart. Lucifer deserves to see a Dom who stays strong for him if nothing else, but mostly it is to preserve what little bit is left of her pride.

She finally turns her head to stare at the wall in front of her and tries her best not to shiver. She knows she fails when the sub whines louder and leans further back against her. This gesture – this small subconscious act of kindness, of trying to give her what warmth he can through what skin is touching – is what finally does her in.

“I can’t do this,” she whispers and gasps a breath, feeling those tears she refused to allow to fall come forward against her will. “I can’t just sit here and let us die.”

“Mistress?” the man who goes by the Devil ventures and sniffles.

“Lucifer,” she sighs out fondly – heartbroken tone loud and clear – and sniffles herself, “I’m sorry.”

Lucifer stills and lets out a soft tone, letting her know he is listening…as best he can understand her anyways at this point.

“You told me that the sting would never work,” she says and shakes her head. “I insisted anyways. I was just…” she trails off, not knowing now how it matters at all what she was. “never mind,” she finishes.

Lucifer squirms a little and then sags once again, this time taking the air out of her lungs from the force of it. His head is laying the crook of her neck, nose resting against her shoulder and she leans her own head against his. She feels the ghost of a smile cross her face, closing her eyes and imagining this same position in another life. One where he calls her Mistress because he wants to know, and he knows he is. One where they have lazy lay in days, and Taco Tuesdays filled with family and home. One where he doesn’t think of himself as the Devil, and his name isn’t Lucifer – it’s something simple like Tom or Gary. One where they weren’t on death’s door waiting for the slaughter.

Her smile falls into a heavy frown, pulling her cheeks and mouth tight as she feels her heart shatter. That isn’t their world. It never will be. The only time this beautiful man will even know her to be his Dom is right before their time together is snuffed out. He will die thinking she hates him, because their lives are doomed to follow the pattern and delusions of psychopaths. She will never know if he could be a step dad to her daughter. Her daughter will never know the depth of her pride and love she has for her. There won’t be any slow kisses on a Summer day or nights of passion.

They will simply be gone.

“Lucifer,” she says softly, feeling her bottom lip split as her teeth catches it on the f, and tasting the blood that wells up.

But this is important. If there was any chance at all that some part of his brain could understand her, she needed him to know.

“I never told you what I really thought of you when I first met you,” she says and feels the tears draw up again as she fights them back.

She feels the sub stir slightly, and then burrow as much as he can back into her neck. His little breaths were shallow and concerning. He is probably getting far too cold, but there was very little she could do for that. And knowing that made getting this out even harder.

“I thought you were stunning,” she tells him softly, voice strained. “I never hated you. Even when I couldn’t understand you or what your game was. I was…impressed by you,” she settles on. “You were a sub who owned a hugely successful nightclub, and that may be a shallow thing to do with one’s life but it was so impressive to me. Most subs are afraid to even go out at night but you…” she shakes her head and smiles sadly again, “…you refused to be put in a box. To be told what to do whether it be with your body or with your life. And maybe I didn’t agree with some of your choices, but I respected you because…” she stopped, trying to gather her thoughts together and make sure she is saying exactly what she means to, “…because I did too.”

She huffs a small laugh and blinks slowly, listening to him breathe into her. Wishing she could kiss his forehead.

Softer, she continues, “All my life I was told who to be. And there you were, not letting anyone tell you anything. I envied that confidence, but I also was so happy that you were just you. I was so used to meeting people who were trying so hard to convince people they were someone else, and you were there steady as you go just being yourself. Devil or not,” she laughed a little at this and soaked in his contented hum. “I didn’t treat you right at the beginning and I am sorry. I was so rude to you,” she sniffs wetly.

“Don’t cry, Mistress,” Lucifer whispers and kisses her shoulder. She feels his eyelashes flutter and she almost sobs.

“’m sorry, Little One,” she says to him then clears her throat. “Me talking like this to you is probably so confusing right now.”

He shakes his head and mumbles, “Like it.”

But doesn’t understand it, she finishes in her mind for him. He hears her words, but he isn’t processing them. She closes her eyes and continues anyways.

“I was only rude to you because I couldn’t figure out what you wanted with me, and who you really were. I was so…” she stops and shakes her head, “…stupid. It doesn’t matter. It never did. I wasted so much time.” Her eyes spill over finally as she says this, and she doesn’t fight it. Their time is up. 

“I love you,” she tells him and sobs loudly only able to take moderate comfort in his rising distress on her behalf. “I went to your apartment to tell you that I claimed you as mine to Maze. And what I should have been there to tell you was that that wasn’t true,” she gasps out and sobs again. “I am yours. That’s the truth. I belong to you, Lucifer Morningstar, whether you want me or not. And maybe you don’t understand me, and maybe you never will…but I had to tell you that. And I had to tell you that I want nothing more in this life than to call you mine.”

“I love you, Mistress,” he replies and she can feel his tears spill down her shoulders. “Wanna be yours.”

She gasps at this and nods her head.

Just as she is about to respond the door creaks and she feels her whole body tense. This is it.

“Lucifer, Little One?” she whispers urgently and he begins moving around, making distressed little noises. “When that door opens, we have one shot.”

Another latch snaps off and the sub whine. “What, Mistress?”

“To fight,” she says urgently, spitting some of the blood out.

Lucifer whines and sits up straight with her just as the door creaks open and Chloe gasps again at who is standing on the other side looking for all the world scared out of his goddamn mind.

“Um, hi,” he says.

~C&L~

46 Hours Ago:

Lucifer jolts out of his skin from the touch of a hand to his shoulder, immediately rearing up to flash his Devil eyes and snarl at whoever dared to startle him. That is, until he looks around and realizes he’s on the patio of his Penthouse, the offending person touching his shoulder is his Mother, and he has no idea how he’s gotten there.

He swallows.

“Son?” the Goddess of all creation asks cautiously in response to his aborted growl. “Why are you out here staring at nothing looking like…this?” her nose turns up as she says this, looking over his rumpled appearance critically.

Looking down at himself as well, the first thing he notices is sweat stains in his shirt. 

He never sweats. 

And a quick touch to his neck says his scarf is gone. What the hell is going on? Slowly becoming more upset, he shoots a glance in the reflection of the door glass, and oh boy is he ever a mess. 

Disheveled hair, dark circles under his eyes, wrinkled pants, shoes gone, shirt half way unbuttoned, jacket missing…

Lucifer looks around his patio, feeling his brain try and catch up, as it takes in everything around him. Nothing seems out of place. Nothing except for…him. He shouldn’t be here. The last thing he remembers is leading the Detective out of the crime scene. They sat on a bench. 

When did he get here?

He looks at the watch on his wrist, and grunts at the scratched face. He’s lost four hours since he last remembers looking at a clock. Was he slipped something?

But that couldn’t be right because the last drink he had was before they talked to David. It wouldn’t take that long to digest with the Detective present.

And yet, he can’t even be sure of that since he doesn’t remember what happened after sitting on the bench.

He also feels…exhausted. 

In a bone tired, just had to run a marathon carrying a ton of bricks on your back kind of way. It’s strange and dare he even say…frightening?...to feel so completely out of control of his surroundings. He feels like he’s adrift on the ocean, unable to focus for the fact that he’s struggling to float, and the waves keep pulling him under under under….

“Lucifer?” his mother asks more insistently, digging her hand into his shoulder; and he snaps back to awareness again without meeting her eyes. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

He stares for a moment at his reflection in the patio door glass then shakes his head slowly. “I…I don’t know,” he answers honestly, voice sounding far away. “I’m sorry, Mum. I’m just…tired, I think? Were you saying something?”

She looks him over, manicured brow rising in agitation. “I was wanting to know why you were staring off into nothing looking like you walked in off the street.”

“Oh,” is the flat reply. 

He wraps his arms around his waist and pulls away from her grip, feeling a sudden chill in the air. Folding his shoulders inwards and away from any attempt of handling him he mentally grasps for something to hold onto. Where is the Detective? Did she bring him home? That would have been so nice of her. He needs to thank her. She is always too nice to him. He didn’t deserve it or deserve her. 

Thinking of that makes him deeply frown at his reflection. He looks like death warmed over. Certainly not presentable enough to do any proper thanking of his Dom Detective. He needs to fix that. She deserves for him to look his best for her. 

He shivers, remembering the chill he felt a second ago. 

Why is he so cold?

“It’s so cold out here,” he complains, echoing his thoughts, and starts walking into the penthouse, not sparing her another glance. His steps slightly drag along, but are nonetheless sure of their destination – even if he feels slightly out of body and on autopilot.

“It’s 85 degrees,” is her arch and slightly shrill response. “How can you possibly be cold? And where do you think you’re going?”

“I need to take a shower,” he mumbles, continuing to shuffle towards his room, not looking back. 

He needs to look nice so he can thank his Dom Detective. 

He should use the lavender shampoo. It makes his hair fluffier and she always compliments him when his hair is a little fluffier.

He wants her to compliment him. He wants her to accept his compliments in return. He’d like to be able to tell her he thinks she’s exquisite. That she burns brighter in his mind than the stars he formed. He knows that outside of his attractive looking face he isn’t much of a choice to someone so…good (and honest and loving and perfect and gorgeous and intelligent and…).

But maybe if he was just really, REALLY well put together and well behaved she’d let him at least pretend he was. Just while alone. Just for awhile. Let him feel like maybe his soul wasn’t too ugly for her...

“Lucifer! I came here to talk to you. You’re shower can wait!” His mother glares at his back and huffs in outrage, storming closely behind him with her heels click-clacking on the floor. 

He sighs, “Mum, I can talk to you later, okay?” and keeps walking towards his stairs. “I need to take a shower.”

“No!” she shouts and jerks him around to face her once they had gotten just inside of his room. “You will speak to your Mother. You are acting strange and-…” For the first time, she gets a good look at his eyes and it makes her draw back with a gasp. “Your-Your eyes are…” she puts her hand to his cheek, inspecting the ring of white glowing around his irises and he flinches backwards.

“Mum, just let me go shower,” he listlessly asks her, half heartedly trying to move away.

She shakes her head and maneuvers him to sit on the edge of the bed so she can get a better look. “Stay put,” she tells him forcefully and tilts his head back, turning it this way and that.

There was no denying it. 

The ring around both of his irises are glowing brilliantly – divinely – white. As if in perfect parallel to when they glow red. She hasn’t seen her son’s eyes look like this in literal thousands – millions – of years. 

Not since ages before his fall. Back when he was called happily by another name, Paired to her ex, and freely creating some of the wonders of the universe with the mere flick of his wrist. 

The sight of it now, bringing forth these memories burns her. It calls to a deep-rooted swelling of anger and hatred and feeling helpless and abandoned…but also of longing of warmth of home…

She breathes through the emotions surging through her. “Lightbringer,” she whispers and in the back of her infinite mind the fires of possibility ignite once again. “Eversor…pestifer mundi…”

Maybe. 

Just maybe. 

Her son was rising as he was always meant to do – the way she always intended for him to – and she could use that? She could wield it like the weapon it is. The raw power and indistinguishable fire surging below the surface of his skin that he was never allowed to set free, just waiting to be harnessed. She could help him see who he is, who he always was, who he was afraid to be but destined to be all the same. 

Oh the end would be glorious. The destruction. She was practically salivating…

But the soul behind the bottomless eyes is lost. Absent. Adrift and wanting. She can feel his mind pulsing with need. The need for another and not for the power surging in his veins. Almost like…the Goddess of all creation pulls back with a snarl, startling her son who looks up at her confused.

“Mum?” he ventures in a small voice, touching his jaw where she had gripped him so tightly.

“How long were you standing on that balcony, son?” she asks in a controlled tone.

“I-I…” he looks off into the distance, feeling his body start to rebel against the position he’s in. A Dom put him here on the bed and told him to stay put, but not the Detective. He doesn’t want to be here. He needs to take a shower. “I don’t know, Mum. Please can I go shower?”

“No,” she snaps and paces in front of the bed. “You need to snap out of this, Lucifer. Do you understand what is happening to you?”

He shakes his head and slowly tries to stand. He doesn’t want to follow her orders. “I need to see the Detective. So I need to go -…”

“Shower? Yes, so you’ve said,” she cuts off and stalks forward, making him plop back on the end of the bed. “It seems Amenadiel was wrong in thinking we had time. There is no time!” she growls. “You’re already half way there. How did this happen? What is the last thing you remember?”

Lucidness was hanging around the corners of his mind…somewhere just out of reach. His mother was angry and they didn’t have time? Time for what? 

“I-I was with the Detective. Our crime scene had exploded. I think?” he shakes his head, trying to clear it. Why isn’t the Detective here? Why is his mother so angry? Why can’t he just go shower? “We-we sat down on a bench? And-and…” his mind wanders and then he hears it almost as clear as if it just happened that second. 

Her laughter. 

The Detective’s. 

But not joyful laughter. 

Angry, cruel laughter. 

The Detective had been angry. He remembers seeing how her face looked pulled tight across her features, ready to snarl at anyone who dared talk to her without permission. He had felt…scared…for the first time in her presence. He remembers rearing back and not knowing how to fix it. He remembers her hands moving angrily, almost as if she was so angry so could hit something…

And with that memory the dam opened and the rest of the events came crashing in. 

Her calling his name and apologizing. Him running away like the hounds of hell were chasing him. People. So many people touching him, asking him if he was alright. He had been terrified, shoving through everyone, and kept running. 

And running.

And running.

He had run until he made it to Studio City, and realized he had made it about five miles and his shoes were missing, having tripped two miles in and kicking them off. He reached for his phone in his pocket and ordered an Uber that he took in silence. The driver had asked him countless times if they needed to call anyone because he looked like he had been severely hurt.

He never answered the concerned looking sub, just stared out the window till they arrived at his club and he practically fell out of the door. He dragged himself to his private elevator, avoiding contact with everyone he passed including all of his staff and finally stopped when he made it to his balcony. 

He had needed air. He had needed to process what had happened. The Dom was mad at him. Why? Why did he care? 

He had screamed then, feeling like his head was about to split open from the force of the emotions swelling inside. He failed.

Failed.

Failed!

Monster! That’s what he was. He had grabbed his hair and pulled as hard as he could without pulling it out, wishing the pain would be more than temporary. Needing a reminder. A punishment!

Lucifer feels like his brain will explode from the information piling in and grips his hair once again now, crying out in pain as he drops to his knees. 

He’s too hot. 

No, he’s too cold.

No, he’s alone and he doesn’t want to be.

It’s too much…too much…TOO MUCH!

The Goddess of all creation looks around sharply as the glass in the room begins to rattle dangerously. “S-Son?” she stutters. “Lucifer? Calm down. There’s no need to do this,” she insists and backs up right into the beam outside his bathroom door. 

And just as suddenly as it all began it stops. 

The glass quits rattling and Lucifer gets quiet. His mother breathes a sigh of relief, nearly sagging where she stands – she would not have walked away from a glass shower unscathed – and steadies herself as he sucks in deep breaths. 

“Mum?” he ventures, confused and lost as he also looks around. “Why am I on the floor?”

The woman wearing Charlotte’s face grunts, annoyed, and wipes down the wrinkles in her dress. “You put yourself there in a fit of dramatics,” she tells him and walks forward, grabbing him by the chin once again.

He whips his head back from her touch. “What the bloody hell is wrong with you? Let go!” he shouts and stands up, then stumbles over his bare feet, which makes him look down. “Blimey! I’m a mess!”

Disbelieving at his change so quickly she looks him over trying to figure out if she was really witnessing what was happening in front of her. “Yes. It’s how I found you,” she tells him flatly, watching his reaction. “You said your crime scene had exploded. Whatever that means.”

Lucifer looks at her, meeting her eyes. She notices the white rings are gone and makes a decision. If he truly doesn’t remember, he doesn’t need to know. That way she can plan for correcting whatever may be causing her son’s…predicament.

“Yes,” he replies and shakes his head, feeling around his head and realizing how sore he is. “I suppose it did. I should check in with the Detective. I don’t remember leaving, but she probably sent me home.”

“Did she?” his mother presses, needing to be sure he didn’t remember anything that had transpired. 

He looks at her in thoughtfulness and nods. “Yeah. She let me go. For the best really,” he reasons. “I’ve had my fill of fire’s aftermath.”

Nodding she watches him take one last look around then looking to her sharply, making her hackles rise in immediate defense. 

“Why are you here?” he asks suspiciously.

Oh. Well, that at least is an easy answer. “I was checking on you. Amenadiel mentioned he hadn’t heard from you.”

“Amenadiel was at the station earlier today,” he narrows his eyes. “I don’t know what for, although he has developed a need to follow me around like a stray dog. But why would he say he hasn’t heard from me?”

She shrugs, moving to leave his room, determination settling in her brow. “Who knows, son? Maybe he was just worried.”

“Worried?” he barks a laugh and shakes his head. “Worried for what?”

Not turning around she makes it to the open elevator doors and says softly, “Oh, I’m beginning to understand why.”

Lucifer watches his mother go and snorts. 

He was too tired to care about what that might be about. He needed a shower. And a scotch.

In the doorway of his bathroom he feels a weird sense of déjà vu. Almost like he’s missing something. He looks around, seeing nothing out of place and shakes his head. 

He’s just tired. 

That’s all.

Once he showers and feels more like a person again, he’ll contact the Detective and find out what their next move should be.

He never notices the four-inch long crack in his glass lamps in the bedroom.

~C&L~

Linda knows she is way out of her depth here.

She also knows that she should probably leave yesterday’s disturbing session behind her and write it off as just another Lucifer thing she’s had to endure. Lest she winds up in more of a mess than the last two years of her life have found her in.

But anyone who knows Linda knows that that is NEVER going to happen. Not when her conscience is telling her she shouldn’t let it go.

Which is why she is waiting for her tall, dark and handsome (liar) neighbor turned somewhat friend to show his stupidly handsome face. 

She feels like after everything Amenadiel has put her through, the very least he can do is give her some answers so she doesn’t constantly feel like she’s doing something wrong.

Granted.

The chances of her truly grasping the answers she’s given – regardless if she can truly trust she’s being provided the whole truth or not – are slim to none. How does a simple human even begin to comprehend the divine?

“Linda?” Amenadiel calls and she whirls around to face the angel…fallen angel?...man?...whatever.

“Hi,” she huffs. “Can I come in?”

He lingers back before slowly nodding and unlocking his door, letting her into the office.

She looks around, fully aware she is prevaricating by letting him dordle with his belongings and clear a space for her to sit. She sees that living in this room full time is clearly not doing him well – what with the empty pizza boxes laying around and the other assorted trash – but she is trying to help one fallen angel at a time, thank you.

Her schedule is already full.

“Sorry about the mess,” he says and quickly shoves a whole armful of boxes into the closet with a quick, strained smile.

She doesn’t comment.

“So, how are you, Linda?” he asks and leans against the cabinet on the far wall.

She arches a brow and crosses her arms, summoning every bit of her courage in her petite five-foot tall body. 

“This actually isn’t a social call, Amenadiel,” she tells him seriously.

Surprised, he gestures for her to continue.

“I saw your brother yesterday, and he told me a few things,” she crosses the room to sit on the small (mostly clean) loveseat. “It left me with a lot of questions, and since he...” she falters, trying to find the nicest way to say it, “…had to leave early, I wanted to talk to you.”

“Because I’m the one who’s the best to answer questions about my ineffable brother?” he chuckles and shakes his head.

Challenging, she nods with a determined expression. “You’re the best I have to making sure he’s not going to somehow hurt himself without pushing him too far.”

Amenadiel watches Linda for a moment, guarded but amused. 

It wasn’t that long ago that he was manipulating this poor human into using her connection to Lucifer to try and meet his own ends. In the process, sure, he developed a friendship with the good doctor and began to understand that humans were not just purposeless creatures meant to entertain his Father; but rather that they had purposes and reasons for existence the same as angels.

And coming to that understanding had been the hardest lesson he’s had to learn.

Being forced to understand that he wasn’t special.

Not in Heaven, as he was merely a soldier angel – first born or not.

And not on Earth, as his path and destination is neither greater nor lesser than these beings his Father created so many eons ago.

If he is honest with himself, he still hasn’t fully accepted that fact. He still holds onto the idea that he might be missing something. That maybe if he could just get back to the Silver City and petition Father’s council he could make it all make sense again.

He frowns out the window to his right, fully knowing that his Father won’t speak to him anymore than he speaks to anyone nowadays.

“Didn’t we do this already?” he says tiredly and turns back to Linda. “It ended with you nearly completely hating me for good and looking at me like I’m the one who is the Devil for months.”

Linda bites her lip and uncrosses her arms, realizing her pose might be coming off a tad threatening.

The truth of the matter is, he’s right.

They had done this before, and he’s also right in saying that it drove a fairly large wedge in their friendship that still has not completely healed.

But despite that and also despite the ache in her chest at the understanding that what she is about to do goes against everything she knows to be right about patient confidentiality – or even, stripping away titles and just straight up friend code – she’s worried for Lucifer.

And he’s the Devil, so if he were in crisis, whom would she report it to anyways? It’s not as though he could be put in treatment.

Well, okay, he could be put in treatment – and if he were any other patient that is exactly what she would be recommending – but it’s not as though that would actually help him.

“This is different,” she settles on saying with a sigh, shoulders slumping.

Unconvinced the angel snorts, “Sure it is. But what’s the problem?”

“He was talking to me yesterday about…” what to call it? “…well, for lack of a better terms for it, your childhood.”

Huh, the angel thinks in mild surprise. “He was actually willing to talk about that with you?”

Linda tilts her head a little and crosses her legs. “Well,” she huffs, caught, “after a little prodding.”

Smirking he chuckles, “Okay. Well, what about our childhood?”

“Designations,” she says and leans back a little bit. “He’s very concerned about them, and based on our conversation it seems as though that concern stems back to whatever he must have seen and lived through in your home. And this seems to be what is standing in the way of him acting on his growing feelings for Chloe.”

Amenadiel’s lips thin as he looks out the window again. “He shouldn’t be acting on any feelings for Chloe. And my brother has always fought his designation. It’s one of the things that led to him being banished to hell.”

“See,” she sighs, “that is exactly what I mean. Why?”

“Why what?” he snaps.

Narrowing her eyes, she asks sharply, “Why did it lead to his rebellion? Why can’t he be with Chloe? I realize I am crossing a lot of lines here, but I haven’t really been left with a choice! I have been treating a patient for close to two years now that displays very concerning signs of multiple disorders and tons of behaviors that would get a human put into in treatment care.”

Amenadiel starts to respond when Linda cuts him off.

“Including, but not limited to: severe drug abuse, severe alcoholism, admitted self harm, suicidal ideation, reckless endangerment, severe depression…do I need to go on?”

Humbled, Amenadiel shakes his head. “No, Linda,” he shuffles over to the desk chair and doesn’t meet her eyes as he sits down, “you don’t.”

Offended on Lucifer’s behalf, she sits up and crosses her arms again as she continues her rant. “And to make it all worse you were trying to murder him! Don’t think I’ve forgotten, Amenadiel. I haven’t!”

He sags into his chair. Properly scolded.

“Now start talking,” she sniffs. “I think I have been more than tolerant!”

“What did he tell you?” he asks and tries to get more comfortable in his chair.

Mollified that he was cooperating, Linda leans back a little, softening her appearance again. “That he was the only one of all the angels that was a sub, and that he helped to care for what he called the fledglings.” She dithered for a second and added. “And then got very upset when I gave my opinion on why he rebelled.”

Amenadiel nods. “Sounds about right. He doesn’t like being reminded of what happened. And the truth is he doesn’t remember what truly happened.”

Intrigued, she nods at him, focus intent. “Go on.”

Taking a deep breath, Amenadiel clears his throat and begins to tell the story. “When we were created, we had a purpose we were designed for. Our abilities were part and parcel to our jobs and our jobs were very clear.”

“Yes,” she says, “he mentioned something about that.”

“Okay, well you need to understand that every angel, all of our brothers and sisters – no matter the divination or rank they belonged to – knew exactly what that was. Orders were clear in the beginning,” he implores her. “Father and Mother were very highly concerned with making sure everyone knew their place.”

Seeing where he was going with this, Linda sighs, “Everyone but Lucifer?”

He nods.

“How did I know that?” she mutters with a roll of her eyes.

“He was the brightest and best of us all,” he continues, almost reverent. “The Lightbringer. Lucifer was only a nickname back then, it wasn’t his actual name. And we all loved him. He doesn’t ever tell the story that way because that’s not how he saw it. But it’s true.”  
Linda scoffs, “I think he didn’t see it that way, because it wasn’t actually that way. People – angel or not – don’t lead a rebellion against a perfectly happy home, Amenadiel. They have reasons to go to something so extreme. And in my experience, as well as my training, there are usually catalysts that lead to any kind of rebellion. Even teenagers don’t actually just wake up one morning assholes, although parents seem to think so. There’s usually deeper issues and root causes that are getting ignored.” 

Amenadiel sighs and stares down at his desk. “Fine. Many of us didn’t know how to interact with him, this is true,” he concedes. “But not because of his designation. It was because of who he was to Father.”

Linda tilts her head in question.

“For angels, designations aren’t meant to be rooted in anything…sexual, I guess you would say,” he says with a look.

“Meaning, it isn’t tied to gender or meaning what?”

Amenadiel thinks it over, then nods, “That’s probably the best way to put it for you. We weren’t designed to marry. To bond with another angel and procreate. We’re all siblings.”

She blew out a breath, “Wow, that’s a relief. I can check off a few questions I had and didn’t want an answer to.”

Ignoring her commentary, he continues, “We were designed to be Paired to Father and Mother.”

“Less of a relief,” she winces, squicked out voice in tact.

Amenadiel rolls his eyes, “Designations and Pairing weren’t rooted in or about sex. Humans immediately think Pairing is about meeting sexual needs, it actually isn’t and it definitely wasn’t before for humans either.”

“So,” she ventures, “no incest? Just to be clear?”

Giving her a flat look he huffs. “No.”

Appeased, she nods and lets herself relax again.  
“Okay,” she says and folds her hands together. “So then what was it designed for?”

“Keeping balances in check,” he replies. “Pairing is meant to be about maintaining a baseline. You have a leader and the led. There are those in charge and those who take orders. Angels are creatures meant to take orders. To carry out tasks that have a means to an end. A purpose. We were created for specific purposes. Nothing more and nothing less.”

She soaks that in and tries her best to not seem like she’s as confused and also horrified as she fucking feels. “But that’s…” she bites her lip to keep her emotions in check, “…that’s incredibly bleak.”

Amenadiel fervently shakes his head. “No, it’s not. It makes sense. There’s purpose and reason to existence. We exist because we’re meant to, exactly as we are, to be part of a greater purpose. Don’t you see?”

She does. She sees exactly what he is saying.

She just doesn’t think Amenadiel sees how fucked up that thinking is. She shakes her head, forcing down her sorrow at such a sad circumstance for her friends to be being tossed around in. 

“But if he is the only sub, how does that even work?” she asks. 

“This is precisely what has always been his problem. He’s never understood that subs are not the ones who take orders it’s the Doms. His designation – your designation…” he gestures to her, “…being a sub does not mean being chained to another’s will. No one could ever make him see that.”

Flustered, Linda shakes her head, thoroughly disagreeing. “That sounds exactly like something a Dom would say,” she growls. “Look, I don’t want this to devolve into a discussion about Dom versus sub rights, so let’s just drop that altogether. What I meant was if he was the only sub, how could you all be Paired to your parents?”

“Father and Mother had no designation. They are beings who predate the existence of all of that.” He rubs his eyes.

“Sure,” she grunts. “Of course. You know, what I absolutely hate, is that I ask a question, I get a half ass answer, and I wind up with fifteen other questions.”

Slightly more annoyed, he picks up what he was going to say before the conversation trailed way into left field. “Lucifer was the only one ever created who was not Paired to both Father and Mother. He was paired only to Father. This was significant because no one understood why. Not even Mother, as far as I know.”

“No one but…?” she leads.

“…me,” he says and shuffles his hands.

Settling into the couch, absorbing that, Linda replies, “But if he was helping your father in creation, wouldn’t it make sense?”

“No,” he tells her, “because his twin, Michael, wasn’t that way.”

Linda chews her lip, “Yeah, he said he had a twin. I find that to be absolutely insane to even think about.”

“They look nothing alike,” Amenadiel sniffs. “Same as all of us look nothing alike. They are twins because they are opposites and yet completely same. Michael manifests energy, and Lucifer shapes it. Lucifer had the ability to make anything he wanted or could think of with the snap of his fingers. Father would direct his hand, and Lucifer created. Side by side. Hanging the stars and the galaxies. One by one.”

“Okay,” she says, trying to ignore the fact that she can’t fathom what that means. “So then why does that not explain why he was Paired to your Father if you were created strictly to be a tool?”

“Because Lucifer was also always meant to be the one to be in hell.”

Thrown, she gasps, “What?”

“Just not the way it occurred,” he says solemnly. “Father and Mother are not the only divine beings in the universe. As I said before, they predate the existence of the universe. The one we know. And what that means, Linda, is they are beings who are…leftover…from what was before.”

Linda looks out the window, suddenly very tired of listening to this absurd history lesson she never dreamed she’d be getting.  
Amenadiel continues, “And shortly after the fall of Lilith, Lucifer…questioned.”

“Questioned what?” she looks to him.

“What his purpose was,” he says seriously. 

Because that totally answered the question.

“Who is Lilith?” Linda asks, getting upset on her friend’s behalf.

“She was the very first woman,” he tells her. “Eve came after, as Lilith rejected her designation as sub to Adam.”

“The world’s first man is a divorcee?” she exclaims.

Amenadiel looks at her, unimpressed and she shakes her head.

“Never mind. So Lucifer questioned because he saw that someone who was created to be a sub was capable of telling someone in authority over them the word no,” she says, understanding in her tone. “I see.”

Amenadiel sucks his teeth, “He concluded incorrectly in assuming what his designation meant. He is not human. He was never meant to compare himself to the lot of you.”

Trying not to take that to heart, she replies, “But maybe he actually should have. Maybe it was good he finally did.”

“How can you say that?” he asks, hotly. “He disrupted the balance of the universe in his folly.”

“Amenadiel,” she answers him calmly, trying to keep herself from showing her inner turmoil at the direction the conversation is heading, “your parents were using him. Using you too. He finally started to see that.”

Angry, the freshly fallen angel glares at the wall behind the good doctor’s head. “We were not being used. We had duties. He had a purpose and he rejected it. He rejected Father.”

“And what was this purpose?” she asks him archly; already knowing she won’t like the answer. “What was so important that you would be using your own child like a pawn in a elaborate game of Gods and Devils? And not stop to understand the damage you’re wreaking on someone? Or care?!”

“He was meant to ultimately bring peace to the realms,” he tells her, tone insistent as if she could never possibly understand. “Instead he became the adversary of them all! The Lord of Hell was never meant to be a position of imprisonment. It was meant to be what ensures the balance of all things! With his abilities, he was meant to provide a new home to those lost outside our reality. The others who were leftover from what came before. Those that didn’t make it over like Father and Mother did.”

She blinks once, then twice. “What?!”

“He rejected this. He saw it as a cage.”

“It would be a cage!” She burst out as she stands. “Amenadiel, I don’t like this at all. You’re telling me he was always meant to rule hell? And in hell, he was meant to what? Be the gatekeeper for whatever other cosmic whatnots are lurking around the corners of the universe?!”

“Yes, but more than that. He was meant to usher in the new race of celestials.” He says to her, searching her gaze to see if she understands why what has happened is very dire.

“What the actual fuck does that mean?”

Amenadiel grunts in frustration and pushes away from his desk. “Pairing is never sexual for angels.”

Confused, she stares at his back as he faces the window. “So you said?” she leads.

“But what if one of the angels were created with sexual desire?” he says and refuses to elaborate any further, waiting to see if she catches up. “Since most angels were either not created with the ability to feel such desires, let alone even want it?”

Linda thinks it over. “Then he was meant to be…sexually desired? I don’t understand what you are talking about. And this is turning into a circular conversation that is answering absolutely nothing.” Getting frustrated herself, Linda stands and practically shouts, “What is it that you know that no one else does? Say what you fucking mean to say! You have sexual desires, does that mean you’re a celestial factory too?”

Amenadiel narrows his eyes at her. “What Lucifer does not remember in his rebellion and the knowledge that was stripped from everyone but myself, is that he was meant to be Paired to someone else. That is why he was only Paired to Father. He was meant to be passed along to the one who would help him to create the new race as well as and bring it all into pass as what was set in motion by Father.”

Struck, Linda draws back. “Amenadiel…do you even understand what that makes your Father? What that makes you for being adjacent to this-this fucked plan?”

“This is why his feelings for Detective Chloe Decker are a problem, Linda,” he cuts her off. “He is not meant to be with a mere human. And no matter how much he rejects his path, Father’s plan all wills out.”

Linda shakes her head.

Horrified. Disgusted.

Those are the only words to describe how she feels. Tears come up and she wipes them away angrily.

“And you have the nerve to call him the Devil,” she hisses. “You-you…” she makes a loud sound and storms to the door. “I am warning Lucifer,” she angrily tells him from the door, “and you aren’t going to stop me. He deserves to know the nature of the sick game being played with his life!”

Amenadiel watches her go with a solemn expression.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! More to come soon. And as always, kudos and comments are appreciated.


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